2019-10-28 - Family Matters

The drive up from Gray Harbor to Western State Hospital is about 90 minutes, but takes around two hours thanks to the thunderstorms overhead. The massive brick and stone structure, in a seemingly odd expanded U shape with several out of place jutting edges, lies about seven miles southwest of Tacoma in the city of Lakewood. It's one of two state-owned psychiatric hospitals and the one that serves 200 or so criminally insane patients as well as regular psychiatric patients.

Getting in to see Starling Celaeno was quite a task. She's held in what is known as the Center for Forensic Services (CFS), where the criminal patients are housed. It's very high security, so Finch had to go about contacting her Great Aunt's shrink and getting his permission and a one-hour time slot on a specific day in which she and the three named companions could visit the elderly woman. Finch sent screening forms to everyone a week ago, and sent them in, which were accepted and then the scheduled visit was set.

The Ivy covered main entrance seems surreal with the rivulets of stormwater falling from the leaves, but they drive past that, to the secure CFS building. This is much more like a prison than a place of healing. This makes sense, since the patients kept here are criminals, many of them murderers or attempted murderers, like Finch's great aunt and mother.

They are searched before they can enter, no guns, drugs, alcohol, or any other contraband allowed. Their personal affects are put into storage lockers, including cellphones, purses, jackets, hoodies, tobacco products and lighters. Maybe more strict than some prisons.

At long last they are led into a meeting area, with armed security guards scattered around the walls, and doctors and nurses stationed nearby. The tables suspended above the ground, braced there by connected stools which branch off of them like spokes, which are bolted to the floor. They are immovable, solid metal with chipping once-white paint. They are escorted to one and told to sit, and that Doctor Herman would be bringing Starling out to see them shortly.

Finch looks nervous, unsettled, and like she doesn't know what to expect. She hasn't seen her Aunt in a long, long time, and those few times she did visit, Starling might be cordial or confrontational, or both in an ever-changing shift in and out of sanity.

The prison-like similarities work in August's favor, horribly enough; it's not nearly enough like a hospital to make his problems lean into the Xanax he took before they drove up. Still, he eyes the building warily on the way in, and is maybe a little more tense than usual, if not outright jumpy and seeking the closest exit. Finch's own nervousness gives him something to focus on so he can ignore his own. He's happy to let Ignacio and Itzhak be the primary people flanking her, but he looms behind and, effectively, over everyone else, a staid, solid presence reminding Finch that anything coming for her has to get past them.

Itzhak is here like he said he'd be. For Finch, but not just for her. For Iggy and August too. And for himself. This, it's become clear over the months of his cranky friendship, is what he does. If you walk into Hell, he will be by your side.

But oy gevalt the hospital feels bad. Itzhak expected it to be like a regular hospital. It is not. Not by a long shot. Instead it feels like prison, and he grits his teeth through the frisking, mouth twisted and tight. Surrendering his pocket knife and phone and cigarettes and his lighter and his keys isn't something he takes gracefully. I can take them back whenever I want, he tells himself, and it doesn't help much.

Despite it all, he rubs Finch's back as they're escorted into the meeting area. "We gotcha, Fincheleh," he murmurs to her. When they're introduced to a horrible institutional table, he doesn't sit unless somebody makes him.

Ignacio is quiet on the way in up until the place comes into view. His eyes get large and his hand tightens around the end of his sleeve before reaching out to rest, palm up, on Finch's leg for her hand. Focus. On. The center. He murmurs something about closing the garage until all the ivy catches him by curious surprise. "That plant is trying to eat that building."

Uh HUH.

Really Ignacio is not a prime choice to have someone rely on him in this situation, but he knew what was up and has taken zero warnings to pause his decision. He wasn't not going to be there for her. He's also still terrible at filtering things much less anything of any real intensity so we get the mysteriously quiet (quietest) version of the young man he's ever been. His hand finds hers and his jaw sets. Determined, but not calm. This is not a casual day but he can deal with that later. Quietly he murmurs, "Yooooou are not moving in with these people."

There is the resounding loud BUZZZZZZ-CLANK of a heavy lock on a door being disengaged, and a short, heavyset man in a white labcoat and thick glasses comes in, escorting an elderly woman with white hair that is nicely styled, but still yellowing and thinning with her advanced age. She is wearing simple makeup, and beige slacks under a less-than stylish straight jacket in crisp white. Her ankles bear linked cuffs which connect with a chain around her waist Apparently, even in her 80s, Starling Celaeno isn't trusted one iota outside of her cell. There are two guards flanking the doctor and patient, but they stop about 10 feet from the table the visitors are sitting at.

The doctor secures the waist chain of Starling to a metal ring under the tabletop. He straightens and dips his head in greeting. "Miss Finch Celaeno and company?" he queries. "Welcome to WSH. You have one hour to speak with Mrs. Celaeno. I'll be over there in the office, and the guards will be nearby. Please no touching whatsoever, and remain in your seats at all times, until your visit is over and Mrs. Celaeno has been removed from the visiting area.."

Finch holds Ignacio's hand tightly in hers, almost a death grip. On the surface she seems calm, but inside she is roiling with fear and uncertainty. Much of it isn't even because of Starling, but just knowing her mother is somewhere in this building. She looks up at the little man and squints a bit at the serious security around a woman so old if you look at her too hard, she might crumble into dust. "We understand Doctor Herman. Thank you." Then she looks finally at her Great Aunt. "Auntie Starling. It's Finch, do you remember me?"

For the moment, however, the elderly woman glances past all of them, at some middle distance, her eyes seemingly glazed over. She may be heavily medicated, but the side-eye that Doctor Herman gives her seems to indicate this might be an act. He steps away and enters a nearby office with safety glass for windows.

And so August finds himself doing the rounds between everyone else, which makes for an excellent distraction from the corner of his brain which is repeatedly trying to emphasize that they are, in fact, in a hospital. "Damn straight," he mutters in response to Ignacio's comment, eyes scanning the area.

The tension ramping up inside Finch has the odd effect of calming August further. He watches Starling as she's led in, eyes narrowed. His Gift confirms what Finch has already told him: Starling is like him, so she could kill someone as soon as look at them. And the mind Gift as well--so she no doubt has been playing head games, drugs or not. It's not a surprise, then, she's in a straight jacket.

He dips his head in a silent greeting, waiting for her to no doubt do the same to all of them: have a glance at them, see what they're made of. But he's prepared to shove any such examinations off.

Yep none of this makes Itzhak feel better. The hair on the back of his neck stands up at the sight of that tiny old woman treated like Hannibal frikkin' Lecter. Then...she's groping him, examining his body, and his lip curls in a silent snarl. Nope. He pushes back, fending her off like the veteran street scrapper he is. It's close. Her strength in this area is overwhelming, but Itzhak didn't survive this long by not being a slippery son of a bitch.

Ignacio holds onto Finch's hand. There's some truth they'f found in being stronger together than floundering around on their own like some purpose or two halves leaning against one another for support. Or right now where the Spaniard sits his ass in the chair and makes sure he's on board doing what he ought to be. His eyes find the homemaker turned homwrecker.

Finch speaks and his ears tune in.

She looks at them having a battle of wills with August. Then Itzhak and gets shut out and that gives him hope until her wrinkled eyes look right through him and the damn colour drains from his face. There's... yeah he is not a fighter. In the slightest. Not here. Why does his throat feel dry? "Hi. It's um... It's nice to meet you."

Once Herman is in his little safe space, Starling blinks a few times and then smiles at the quartet at the table. "Of course I remember you, Finch dear. You came to visit once with my darling sister, what, a decade ago perhaps? It wasn't very much before your mother came to reside here as well." Her voice is sweet and light, cheerful even, and her smile is cherubic. But that shifts a moment later into a scowl that looks incredibly out of place on that sweet old lady's face. "That bitch. She really fucked everything up, didn't she, little bird?" she quips to Finch.

She turns her charm right back on like flipping a light switch, and turns to look at Ignacio. "What a sweet boy. Broken, but sweet. How is that leg doing? Surely my grand niece can fix that up for you. Maybe not now but..." she glances at Finch, squinting, "Soon. You should really stop getting stoned on, whatever you're stoned on though."

August gets an arched brow as she leans against the edge of the table. "You too, silver fox. Do you like what you see? My, aren't you a handsome fellow? Are you single? It's been a long, long time since a man that looks as tasty as you has walked into this place." She gives him an impish wink before her eyes rest in Itzhak. That one. He has a wall up and gets a frown from the patient. "What are you hiding, Slim?" She glances at his tattooed fingers and smirks. "Looks like I'm not the only one who's done time."

Finch is dressed not very much like herself today. She kept the pink hair, but she's in simple jeans and a green sweater, and her hair is back in a short tail. She shifts a little in her seat and her free hand taps out a nervous rhythm on the tabletop. "Auntie, I came here to ask you about the Curse. I need to know what it is, how it came about. Can you help me with that?"

August reacts to Starling's poking and prodding like he always does to anyone doing it: by digging in his heels, presenting himself as an immovable object, a vast forest with no real entrance or exit. His jaw sets and one of his hands (the one with the thin, golden cut on his palm) curls into a fist as she keeps at it. He's in here, somewhere, or he is here, and she's bound and determined to find him in all of this. Eventually she sorts out how to see the forest for the trees, but he doesn't let up for a second, and keeps the information she can gather about him to a minimum.

"Sorry, not single," August says, tone deadpan. A sideways glance and a small nod of 'good job' to Itzhak though. Way to stick it to the old lady. At least one of them's an unknown quantity.

Itzhak won that tussle, though, and he smirks unpleasantly at old Starling. "Wouldn't you like to know," he mutters. He's on high fucking alert but the knot of conditioned fear in his stomach eases just a little. Oh yeah. Don't call it a comeback.

Ignacio shrinks in his seat the longer she digs into him and outs him. His eyes narrow a bit. He's trying! it's not perfect but- DAMN transparent like a new pane of glass. One can almost hear the squeak of this teeth as his molars grind together. Looking to Finch (and not the lady, and certainly not Itzhak and Roen for reasons his own, embarrassed he asks her, Deep breaths and he says hesitantly, "It's fine. Good. Getting better. It's... Finch?" Ask the lady the question! and he is grateful when she does. God how he wishes he could tune it out right now.

Starling gives Itzhak a wrinkle of her nose, then tears her eyes away from him. She pouts at August with an expression so sad and sweet, it's hard to believe she murdered her husband, brother in law, two brothers, and a handful of cousins in cold blood. "That is such a shame. I'd have shown you a fantastic time. I used to be quite a hussy you know!" she giggles girlishly.

Starling looks back to her grandniece. "Mmmm, yes, I can talk to you about that now, since your mother threw a monkey wrench into the works. And everything had been going so well for so long. You see, many, many generations ago, our family had another name, and we lived somewhere that the Veil was very, very thin, in the Grecian Isles. The Matriarch of our family had an abusive husband and brother-in law, and siblings. They did terrible things to her sister and her children. So she called out to something on the other side for help. And something answered," she says with a mischievous grin.

Finch listens, enrapt." Go on, please," she urges the elderly woman.

"I'm sure you would have," August says with complete sincerity. He folds his arms as Starling begins to explain, frowns about the agreement. He can't help but look down at the palm of his hand and make a face. Not that he needed more proof deals with things from the Other Side were bad news, but at least he and Finch got off light in that regard.

Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh...Itzhak has his mean mug on. He pats Ignacio on the shoulder. Got ya, bro. Then as Starling tells the story of what the Celeano matriarch did to protect herself, he glances at August, then Finch, with dawning horror.

Ignacio takes solace in his bro having his back and not looking like a total idiot. His jaw tightens but one eyebrow goes up, then the other. His thumb brushing the back of Finch's hand. The story though, maybe as an author, a human being, or a guy who's been through some shit and a peacekeeper he looks faintly pained by this. "Shit that's awful. Ya know... " No he's not going to say it. He clarified, "SO something from, like, over There there?"

Starling gives August another little wink, and nods to Ignacio before she continues her story. "Aello and Ocypete couldn't be bothered," Starling continues, and her body shifts as she tries to wave a hand dismissively. Being that said hand is bound in the straightjacket, that gets her nowhere. "But their sister, Celaeno, saw an opportunity. In exchange for the blood of our men, which would water their lands and grow their food so she was no longer starving, she would protect our women, and see that they prospered greatly. The Veil changes though, and our family, bearing her name now, had to move to follow where she nested. We eventually wound up in Gray Harbor, and have been there for some time now." She smiles broadly, and seem proud of the fact that every other generation goes all murderbird on the family's Y chromosome holders.

"Mallard House is on a thin spot, so when the men bleed into the earth, that blood crosses to the other side. And that was working just fine until your mother. You see, Celaeno doesn't touch the curse-bearer until it's time. And then she gives them their full power all at once. The crazy shit that does to a person, let me tell you. I suppose that's to entirely keep you from hesitating in your mission, but damn, it feels like everything inside of you has been turned to 11. You kill with a thought, feel their minds nearby, they can't hide from you. But Wren," she spits the name like a curse in itself, "She tried to break the pact by killing you in childhood. She made your powers come early. And now none of us know what exactly that is going to do. You might just slaughter everyone. You might resist all of it. And if you do, well, I'm sure the Harpy is NOT going to be pleased. I suspect she'll come and finish off our whole line for reneging on our deal. Unless...." she trails off.

"Unless WHAT?" Finch blurts out, her face pale as a ghost at getting the full information on just what her family did so long ago, and has continued to do for centuries. So much blood watering the earth. She grips Ignacio's hand hard, hers trembling. This is way worse than she thought. She was hoping it was just good old-fashioned insanity in the family genetics but NOPE. They made a deal. Wait, didn't she just make a deal with dryads? FUCK. So there is a genetic component, being idiots.

August listens with grim resignation. He, on the other hand, had been dreading this, been expecting something this bad ever since Itzhak came back from Over There talking about unicorns, his heart changed; ever since Gohl; ever since his own grief had decided to go on a killing spree. "Unless you give her a hefty payment to break out of the contract," he says, "or, make a new one." He raises his eyebrows at Starling, waits to see what she says.

Something about this is worse than regular murder sprees and Itzhak doesn't know why. Something about a dark female power turning women into raving murderesses, tearing men limb from limb, watering the womb of the earth with men's blood... this scares him like few things in his life have scared him. The man who dares to cross the border and tell the Unshaped to kiss his ass finds himself quivering in his boots.

Ignacio is frantic really. His head is open and for a moment he narrows it like a laser onto to give Starling a perfect venue to psychically sucker-punch him leaving his ears echoing tinnitus like running face first into a battle ship. "What-... okay..." He considers. He is right now, very much, after those injuries he had, not qualified to cause more problems spilling blood on soil. He looks back to August, to Itzhak, and then back up to Finch "Sooo the rules changed because you're Harriet Potter?"

"Well unless you willingly carry out the murders to keep things copacetic with our Other Side benefactor," Starling says, with a scoff, as if her grandniece should have figured that out on her own. She looks to August and smirks. "Well, I suppose you could go and barter with Celaeno to change the terms of the agreement, but where's the fun in that?" She rolls her eyes. "I'm sure your copious gentlemen friends here would be willing to help you do that, hm? They're here because they're scared you're going to whack them if they marry or reproduce with you, right? Or maybe your Father could help you?" she asks, with a teasing tone lilting on that sharp tongue of hers.

That last bit seems to hit Finch hard. "You know I don't know who my father is, Auntie Starling," she points out with a tight jaw and a grinding of her teeth.

Starling grins and this time it's a bit of a feral thing. "Oh but we both know someone who does. She may not want to tell you. But she might be able to show you. We are done here." She whistles and the guards signal to Doctor Herman. He comes out and they get her unhooked from the table and on her feet. She licks her lips at Itzhak as if she can taste his fear. She blows a kiss, without a hand to do so, at Ignacio. "Harriet Potter, that's adorable. Darrin! Be a dear and take these lovely people out on the scenic route, through Hall B, will you?" Hall B is where Wren is housed.

One of the guards, clearly Darrin, blinks a few times, then nods. They can actually feel the power Starling exerted over him to put that command in his brain, to make him think it's a great idea, to make him eager to do it. She. Is. Terrifying. And it is clear to all of them that she is there because she wants to be. She could get out with no effort whatsoever.

"Tata Finch. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, one way or another," Starling quips as she is led away, and that BUZZZZZZ-CLANK puts a locked door between the group and the crazy woman once more.

Guard Darrin gestures for them to follow, and he takes them out a different door than they came in. Moving with purpose.

August rolls his eyes. "She's Luna, obviously," he says. He narrows his eyes at Starling, mouth flattening. "Which means even if you never go after your cousins...the Harpy might find a way."

The order given to Darrin has August setting his jaw. This would be why he desparately hopes his own mind powers never get stronger. "We can tell them no," he murmurs to Finch, sensing that anything Starling says should happen shouldn't, in fact, happen. Hall B otherwise means nothing to him.

Itzhak's face sets in a defiant sneer, but all his fronting can't stop Starling from knowing how badly she's frightened him. She knows, and he knows she knows. He can't even muster up a parting shot. Long arms folded defensively over his chest, he looks at Finch to see what she wants to do about Hall B.

Ignacio isn't going to panic. He isn't going to run and he's not going to leave someone standing alone against all this shit again. His skin feels clammy his hand is hard clamped to hers and somehow he resist rising up with natural confrontation in him to correct her.

His heart sinks just a bit, but it's the details that win him over. He says almost on auto pilot, "Maybe... we can fix what was broken?" It's not a terrible plan but Hall B makes him curious, "Hall B? What's in B?" Looking to Finch he quiets and holding his breath he looks to her in her green sweater and nerves, "Hey...Finch?" He gives her hand two squeezes trying so much not to cry from the migraine or the latent buzzing fear this place conjures. "hey, Que deseas?"

Finch shakes her head in the negative at August. "No, no I think she is going to help me figure out who my dad is. I need to know, ok? If things get hairy we can bail. I'll be ok if you're all with me." Because they are her chosen family, and she trusts them. Something she has not done with anyone in her life outside of her grandmother. She swallows. "Hall B is where they keep my mother. In 21 B."

Guard Darrin leads them down what is listed as Hall B. It's for the criminally insane patients who don't have any other health considerations. They're just violent mentally ill people. Each door they pass is metal, with a tiny plexiglass unbreakable window in it, and a slot for things to be slid through. These ones don't get a lot of communal time, because they can't be trusted. There are strange wails and screams, whimpers and thuds as the patients in the rooms strike their bodies against padded walls. Some they pass are asleep, or staring at nothing. All look heavily medicated.

Finch feels a cold sweat slip between her shoulder blades, the closer they get to cell 21 B, her mother's. Everyone else feels...odd. The hallway is looking less and less like they are in WSH, and more like they're in the bathroom hall of some kind of club? The screams and thumps morph into the oontz oontz beats of music. It becomes louder the further they walk, and as they reach 21 B, Darrin is no longer there, the cell doors are not there, there is just a door in front of them, and a blank wall behind. The door is painted purple and the walls are painted black. Is that...Here Comes the Hotstepper by Ini Kamoze filtering through? That's a blast from the 90s past for sure.

August swallows. This part of the facility looks a little too hospital-like, because he's been in a psych ward before. Not for himself, but...

I am not there.

He's not sure he's going to make it down the hall, until the hall stops being a psych ward hall and begins being something else. He pauses when Darrin vanishes. "Guys," he says, rubbing a finger over the healing cut on his hand. "We're--we've been pulled over. Into one of those...things." He edges closer to Finch as the music fades in, tense and wary. Hey, for once, he's fully dressed, shoes and everything.

The hallway changes around them, the walls blooming black, music thumping and oontzing out of nowhere. "The scenic route, huh," Itzhak mutters. He grabs August with one hand and Ignacio with the other. "Don't get lost."

Ignacio starts to file away the high points for when he looks things up later for his key notes. Right. Celano is a being, they changed their name... alright. Well women do that all the time, but to form a murder club for survivors is new. All...right... sure.

His hand doesn't let go but he is distracted enough to ask, "Why are they singing about a Leprechaun gangster?" Finch's hand is pulled up and he presses a kiss to it and looks to Itzhak and grabs his sleeve by his elbow with the other hand giving him THAT LOOK. God he... he might pass out Looking to Finch he tries to keep his voice even but his voice shakes. He has a plan, "Finch, promise me you will not let go of my hand."

"I promise, I won't let go," Finch vows to Ignacio and the others. She turns the knob and the door is opened. They are in a nightclub. A raucous nightclub circa 1994 where people are dancing to the hits of the day. If the music didn't give the era away, the outfits sure as hell do. The young people, college aged, dancing and drinking and singing along all look like the cast of Saved by the Bell, here there's a babydoll dress, there are some spandex shorts, over there is a crushed velvet top, and skater chic abounds.

In the middle of the dance floor is a couple veritably grinding on one another, clearly sauced. The man looks in his mid 20s, but that may be because the tattoos make him look older, as does the military buzz cut. The Navy and Marines are in town, just before they ship out on their next deployment, and there are plenty of men and women in the club who just have that look to them. He is wearing a tight white tee and BDU's with jungle boots. He has at least one tattoo but from here it's hard to make out. He looks to be tanned for sure, but you can't really tell his nationality at a glance, because any time you look at his face, it's blurred out.

The face of the woman he is dancing with is not. She looks a lot like Finch, only with dark hair in a 90s sleek style, wearing denim overalls with a bandeau top under them, the bottoms rolled up, and Candie's open toed wooden heels in brown leather.

"Mom?" Finch says breathlessly. She begins moving through the crowd to get a better look.

August takes Itzhak's hand in his, grips it tight. With the other he pulls an antler tip out of his pocket, rolling it around in his fingers. He sets his teeth against the noise and press and sound of the night club. He missed almost this entire decade, and it still feels like a hole inside him to see pictures of it, much less stand in it.

He moves forward the second Finch does, determined to not get separated from her.

"We got ya, Naishka," Itzhak mutters in response to THAT LOOK. "We're all walkin' out of here, God as my witness." His eyes are on Finch. She's the canary in this coal mine.

We will get into how chickens don't belong in coal mines later. They are terrible fliers!

Ignacio is brave but when the last time you were in one of these places cloying things tear your limbs apart and you lose friends and someone... well forever on the other side and barely make it back? Well it sticks with out. His eyes stay focused on Finch to the point that he's of little help here and works on walking forward.

Right. Mission. Her mom who will maybe hopefully this time not skewer hi leg with bird talons. "Oye!" He tries to get her attention not that she's a Spanish speaker in the slightest but he is and YO is translatable by tone.

As they begin to get closer, another woman, clearly a friend of Wren's, comes up to the pair with a polaroid camera. It had a resurgence back then for a little bit. She has the pair stand still a moment, arms around each other, and snaps a photo. It comes out, and Wren takes it, shaking it to develop, then tucks it into the messenger bag she wears as her purse.

Finch can't seem to make any real progress, like the dance floor is moving under their feet, and keeping them at a certain distance from her mother and the man who may be her father. The man leans in to whisper in Wren's ear, and they can somehow hear the word, "room" and "not far". She nods to him and he takes her by the hand, leading her out of the club.

As Finch speeds up to give chase, she shoulders her way through the door and they are suddenly in a hall of Mallard House, upstairs, in what is now the closed off section. They are outside Wren's room, the next day maybe? Wren is in there, and the calendar on her wall tells them it's Saturday, May 14th, 1994, which means her mother was out at the nightclub, gone all night, on Friday, May 13th. She was conceived on Friday the fucking 13th?

Wren is humming that stupid song as she takes hold of the top of one of the posts of her 4-poster bed, a large, square finial made of wood. She twists it and it comes off, leaving an opening in the post, about 4 inches across. Into that she tucks the polaroid, and then puts the finial back.

"That bed," Finch murmurs. "It's still in her room. We locked that wing up after she was sent to WSH." That's all it takes. She knows how to find the information she needs, and suddenly the four of them are standing in the parking lot of the facility, near the vehicle they came in. Finch whispers, "Thanks Auntie Starling." She knows who orchestrated this little trip into the Dream.

Ignacio says to Itzhak, "Get that pic, si?" but no they're gone. "Bah!" But the scene chisfts and Wren still has the Polaroid in the HOUSE! Iggy pauses and looks to Finch and tells her, "We can... it can tell us. I mean..." He looks around and might pass out. His hand is still a death grip ion both Finch and Itzhak and he's stone faces but maaaan upset doesn't begin to cover it. "D-do we have what we need?"

August keeps close behind Finch the entire way, wary of anything trying to stalk them in the press of nightclub bodies. But then they're in Mallard House, and his perception swims. And then, the parking lot, next to August's Outback.

He stands there, swaying a little. Maybe the dryad ichor isn't totally out of his system. "Well. I guess that's a solid lead." He looks down at her. "You want our help finding this guy, whoever he is?"

That strapping Marine is bizarrely familiar to Itzhak, which he knows can't be right because he wasn't yet ten years old in 1994. He figures the guy just reminds him of a thousand generic military men he's seen in New York (and banged a few of 'em too). Nothing important enough to mention. No, what's really important here is hugging Ignacio tight, one-armed, his other hand still in August's. "You're okay, tateleh." Yeah that stone face doesn't fool him.

Finch nods to August, clinging to Ignacio's hand. This is the closest she's ever gotten to ANY information on her father. Her mother has adamantly refused to tell her who it was. Clearly she even tried to keep her from seeing his face in her own Dream. Protecting her? Or Him? Or is this just spite? "Let's go home. I think I need to stay at Iggy's tonight. I need to," she grimaces, "I need to get my self together enough to go in there and look, and I'd like you guys to be there with me. Then maybe we can figure out how the hell to find a Harpy over There and bargain with it." She gives each man a cheek kiss in thanks, then climbs into the back seat of the Outback and curls up with Iggy for the ride home, trying to think through everything they've learned.