2019-05-23 - Look What The Rain Brought

With warm spring air outside, its just as warm inside. A touch more even, such that the garage doors are open along with the thick foggy windows on the back. The walls are a ceramic tyle, matching the ceramic floors. Slightly classy garage, by seeming to be of an older era more so than high tech up scale. Its that ceramic that's easy to clean grease off of and its well kept at least. Hydralics in the middle near computer equipmetn to monitor new cars, tools along the back wall by those open windows. Some rain trickles in from outside where lightning flashes occasionally. Its a good spring storm, the sort that makes it feel more bright in the flourescant lights of the garage.

Jack is here, there is a truck on a lift. He's got a wrench up in its guts with some oil bleeding out. Its more a trickle now, and he's caught most in a pan or on his overalls as he owrks on the vehicle up there above him. If one ever wondered why his hands were caloused, this is the answer. He doesn't even have rubber grips, his tools are all chrome and shiney, with the notched metal handle that grips as much of his hand as it does the part he's working on. He could use air-impact but the truck seems to be of an age where it was good to get in their with hands to feel around. It doesn't budge, his hand slips and thuds agains something solid inside. With a growl, he turns as if to kick something, but instead inhales and takes a break to walk around the garage instead of being angry for the slip of his hand, taking a breath at least. Lightning flashes again outside, the count to thunder indicates its approaching, a low rumble that gets louder as it carries on a couple of dozen seconds or so.

A sleek and sporty Maserati pulls all up close and personal. The engine is purring all prettily leaving no doubt the vehicle is in good repair. The rain is coming down, the thunder and lightning giving the driver pause. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, Erin waits until the briefest of lulls in the rain before opening her door and rushing inside, careful of her boots against the rain and mud. Her coat is pulled tight around her tightly, all buttoned up to her neck in those oversized buttons. There's no hesitation at the open door, she steps inside out of the weather before reaching up a hand to smooth it down her hair. "I do not remember it being so rainy here growing up." And that is her intro to a man she'd not seen since school, more or less.

It had been a while, and the rain drug her in. Jack was smarting over the collision of his hand with the metal as it slipped from the wrench, now looking up at her talking about the rain. He'd a few years on her, already running a shop when she finished school certainly, and the closest in school was him in high school her in grade school. He'd known here, known he didn't much care for her. Yet, some memory in their gives him a pause to look her over, as if remembering more than he should. "Yeah, global flooding, we get more rain every year now." That may be sarcasm, or poor humor attempt. He walks further from the truck towards the arrival, "Anything I can do you for?" Meaning car service, but there is a pause, a mental face palm even at the play of those words. He amends a title, if she's anything like she was when younger, he should remember his place, "Ms. Addington."

While a quiet curiosity seems to be her general emotion she's emitting, there's a certain hesitance that goes along with it. Dark eyes drop to the hand he'd smacked when the wrench slipped and she looks for signs of blood. Habit. "Is your hand okay?" It sort of ignores his own greetings and she continues to shove right through them to get right to the point. "I have a question." That's the one and only warning he gets before she dives into the uncomfortable. "Wasn't it you that went out with that kid when you were younger.." only the slightest of hesitations before she plows right into it deeper. "And only you returned back home?"

The question draws his own attention to his hand, pink on some knuckles, could scab later but no blood on the injury. Mild by most accounts. "What," he grumps a little, brows furrowed, startled that the conversstaion changed pace at her insistance. Then again, from what little he knew of this Addington girl. "What," he says again, as she jumps past his hand even to something deeper, more direct even. "Seriously?" As if startled it would just be blurted out like that, the said injured hand closes, a little white at the knuckles. Inhale, then an exhale, heard if not seen for sure. "Yeah, Tommy and me went to get firewood on that trip, he never came back." A shake of his head, he humored her with honesty, "What's this about?" Like why now, years later?

Breathe in. Breathe out. The affirmation was all Erin focused on, not the knuckles, not anything else, just that it had happened. "Right. Tommy. I vaguely remember him. His family left not long after?" Or had they? Squinting at him a little, she very blatantly looks to be judging him. "Can you tell me exactly what happened that day? I only ask because I've recently discovered there are things.. I mean I knew there were odd things in this town, but he's not the only one that had gone missing without a real explanation. There's more but I want to go over this step by step." Appearing to wait patiently for his response.

"His folks moved a few towns up coast, away from the harbor and the river," says Jack pointedly, without emotion even. Other than the furrow of brow both upset in dredging the topic and that whatever else, that was the girls only focus. His nostrils flare a little, his own breathing question, then finally a harrumph of a noise in his throat. "Coffee?" Asked after he turned back to get his own cup and just polite enough considering she was a quest here. Muttering to himself, "I hate dreams." Cause obviously he'd had one recently that somehow led to her arriving here out of the blue, or out of the storm evem. There is a low rumble of thunder echoing around in the distance, rolling around town and the shop in the silence of him getting his own cup of joe. The mug used and stained. "You know, digging up ghosts of the past just gets you some ghosts Ms. Addington." A statement, but half a quesiton, do you really want to ask this now.

A handwave, "Just away from here. Specifically." Erin pauses to consider things, brow furrowed lightly, a brief tug of her lower lip from her teeth. Too busy in her own consternation to focus on his own issues for the moment. The offer of coffee does bring her around some and she looks blankly around, coffee pot being the last thing she'd expected in here. "Please." With the pleasantries settled once more, she is about to fall back into that musing when he mentions dreams. Her head jerks up and she narrows her eyes slightly as she focuses her dark gaze on him. "That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you think you could have been in a dream when Tommy disappeared?" Barely scratching the surface so far, she once more waits his answer.

It was half a curse, at his own recent dream most likely, blaming that for the way this day was going. Jack gets a cleaner cup at least, but still coffee stained by use, to poor her some. "A dream," he pondes now, about that incidence so long ago. Coming to hand her a cup, at least it was appropriate mostly, nothing to racy or sexist. The woman on it had a shirt on at least. "Some pyschocis," he regurgitates, proabably what someone else told him. "I don't know, weird dream to have. And it lines up with the same ending. Tommy's gone. I'm trying to let that past lie Ms. Addington. I don't know how dreams relaate to the reality of it all." Though as he ponders he does look her over, with perhaps more familiarity than he should, cusiour now. Less on Tommy, more on dreams perhaps.

Waiting where she is, Erin looks at him expectantly even as he brings her the coffee. Taking it, she thanks him, but moves to take no drink as of yet. Finally, she continues to input questions, deftly avoiding mention of his more recent dreams. For now. She'd ask later. "What if you could find him? I mean what if you could go into that dreamland and find Tommy and bring him back?" She pauses then for good measure. "Do you remember Tobin? He went to school here too, had the most amazing mom we were all jealous of? Then she went missing? He seems to think that he can go in the dream world and find her and after what happened to me this weekened on a boat tour, I'm more than willing to believe that may be true. Dreams.." she lowers her head some to look down into the coffee, a hand going to her ear under the guise of tucking a few strands away when in reality they are hiding the flush there, "they're real."

The dubious look on Jack's face indicates enough that he doesn't think he wants to humor the idea of finding Tommy now. It doesn't increase as she goes on about getting him back in some what if scenario about dreams. Taking a drink, a light nod, maybe he knows of Tobin or has heard of Tobin, or the story of the missing mother at least. She has his full attention when she tucks strands at an ear. "Some dreams, bad or good," emphasis a little on good, "Maybe seem real, but doesn't line up with reality. No matter how much I may want it," or did he mean no matter how much anyone wants it, but he put himself in there relaying to something more personal. Less grumpy even if he's saying otherwise of the dreams. "What happened with Tommy was a nightmare. If I assume for half a minute it was real, I can't imagine he lived this long in some nightmare, and if he did, I don't think I'd want him coming back all of a sudden." Ominious in how derranged Tommy might be in the sound of it. "The good ones might just be fantasy. I mean, hard to imagine, but you showed up recently in mine. I barely knew you by name, let alone seen you since you were a girl." As if to prove they aren't real.

"It was just an idea. A suggestion. I figured if there was even a chance you'd want to take it. Or at least find some answers if possible." Erin lowers her hand. "If you even wanted to find answers. Sometimes the answers are the difficult part though and you're better off without them." Now she meets his gaze rather blatantly. "Dreams never line up with reality. Something seems to br off course or someone wants to kill you. Or me. Or whoever. I don't predict dreams and I don't choose them. Sometimes they choose us for whaever reason." His confession as to her own participation in his dream startles her and she lifts her eyes to his, suddenly realizing that whatever it was, both had really been there. "That only proves my point in the dream with Tommy you may have had."

"I don't know what you might poke at, trying to find his mom," says Jack, "Not sure I want to know. Not sure how that chose anyone, for him." Or, for Jack in the case of Tommy, he finishes off his cup, as if about to say that's about all the company he could entertain. He gives a pause too, "Yeah, similar dream." As if testing the waters, but not certain yet to go in that direction. He does look towards the door, then a window. Still dark out, another flash of lightning there, in the distance, the rain seems to be slowing into a steady cool spring rain. "I'm sure you'd like to go back to that as much as I'd like to go find Tommy." Not saying he doesn't, "If that Tobin comes up with some way to look through dreams, let me know. I'd be damned if I knew that was happening and others disappear too."

"Don't you realize there have been others disappearing also? Since we've been here. Even the Baxters from way back." Erin does sense his need for confirmation and finally allows quietly. "It was real. Or a twisted version of real. It was a dream, but one that when you wake up with Freddy Kruger cuts on you? They're still there, they're real. I had the same dream you had, if you really want to know. And that was just the beginning. I'm not sure how to handle that right now, because that isn't me, and I'm focused on helping others right now so maybe I can find some answers for myself." Leaving it at that, she places down the leftover coffee, but still makes no move to leave as of yet.

"People go missing, its what happens around here," not denying the dreams either, especially as she confirms more. "Whatever it is about these dreams, real or psychosis, I think its dangerous." He puts his cup down, emptied of course. "This helping may end up doing more hurting. I'm not provoking and think of me what you will, but I'd rather keep everyone safe. The bear lives in the bear cave. I'm good accepting that and avoiding the bear, letting it have its natural habitat. Maybe I should be getting back to work Ms. Addington." He turns, its a place of business, no need to show the door. He moves back towards the proper garage area with that truck on the lift. "Just, let someone know where to start looking." He said tell him if they try something, not so much to join, but if not him another, someone.

Being dismissed wasn't something Erin was used to and for a moment she gapes at him in surprise. Her mouth opens then closes before she takes a breath and finds her voice. "Or an ostrich who sticks his head in the sand and lets the things continue. Obviously ignoring them does not work. I thought you may be interested in helping. I see now you are not." A card is taken from her coat pocket and placed beside the coffee cup. "If you change your mind, do let me know. A call or a text will suffice." Turning, she strolls back towards the door before looking back, "Just be careful and if you have any powers, tread lightly. It's dangerous right now to use them."

That thing he pondered kicking or punching in his anger at the car, for hurting his knucles before she walked in, it gets a solid kick now. A trash can for the shop, loud enough to be noticed, hard enough to add another dent as it skitters on the floor a moment. She did call him chicken, but he's stubborn in his stance at the moment too it seems. "Yeah," he looks back, seeing she did leave the card, "Or just to make sure you're still around." A shake of his head, powers, that's like the dreams, some psychosis to him. Or he has none which contributes to his belief in it being more a delusion in some ways. He moves the can back before getting back to his car.

Hearing the ruckus from just outside the open door, Erin looks back.. Damnit she never looked back and here she'd done it twice. Wincing a little, as if feeling his dilemma, she studies him a moment. "Or if you just want to talk about it some more. Maybe with others as well. No one is trying to pull anything over on you. We're just trying to figure out what has grips on our town."

Moving to get a tool, he hears her voice acorss the mostly quiet garage, giving Jack a half glance back as he moves under the truck to get back at that stuck nut or bolt. The looks meets hers, gives a nod. A call later, figure more out, digest what she dropped in his lap today. Its a little stern, with just a hint of care even. Like a father to his daughter the first time she's going out late with friends, the be safe look while trying to be stern and fatherly but really just not wanting bad stuff to happen. It says he'll call sometime, when he's ready, and then he turns to his work to fix that truck he has hoisted up now.