2020-07-26 - The Ghost and the Wolf

The captain, conversely, is late. Not particularly egregiously so, but he clearly has no compunctions about making people wait ten.. make that eleven minutes for the pleasure of his company. And pleasure might be a stretch.

There is indeed a knock, followed by a pause when her mental Gift goes out seeking in that little ping of feelers unfurling. And by the tenor of him, by the fact that his defenses don't instantly slam into place, well.. she's probably caught him unawares. The scent of him, in the mindscape, is like blood and smoke. Lurksome, a guardian like a living torch with bright eyes and teeth like serrated knives- until it, too, fades away as the cop himself shoulders his way into the back room.

He's dressed casual; dark tee shirt, dark jeans, ballcap. The remnants of ash on his fingers from a cigarette he put out in the parking lot, dusted off as he shuts the door. "Miss Machinae?" he murmurs, hand still on the doorknob as he cuts a look toward the girl.

Abitha, for her part, was quite the opposite to Ruiz today, a bright yellow V-neck tee over some distressed blue jeans. She hadn't really gone shopping yet, so 'Sparrow' on the brightness level it was. She doesn't look up from her computer when he comes in, she was staring at his eyes as he opens the door, as if she knew exactly where he would be. It would be creepy if the air didn't almost taste like anxiety, likely a by-product of the fact she'd reached her mind out mentally and found someone on par with her. It seems to be swallowed up as she draws her mind back into herself, trying to be polite even as she had unknowingly admitted weakness.

"Mac's fine, but yeah." she answers, making a face at the 'Miss', but seeming to slip into understanding. Probably an official politeness thing. She waves a hand to one of the chairs, as if welcoming him into her office, like she were the one interviewing, but with none of the solemn aplomb. It was just a seat on the other side of a desk, and she was a small girl working on a laptop. "Sparrow and August call you different things, so... what do I call you?" she asks bluntly, not great at social cues.

There's no real lock on that door, but he seems reasonably assured that nobody's going to walk in on them. August'll make sure of that, or he wouldn't have offered it up in the first place. "Mac," he corrects himself, easing away from the door and heading for the table at what could be described as a meander. A dawdle, if anything about this man ever dawdled; if anything about him were not under the strictest, most taut control.

"Okay. Mac, then." He clears his throat, tugs a chair closer, settles in with a sort of spread-kneed sprawl like he owns the place. Which, of course, he doesn't. His gun and badge are clearly visible, suggesting he's very much on duty at the moment, no matter the blend right in with the average joe look he's got going on there. "You, uh. You all right? You want something to drink, some coffee.. something? Pretty sure Roen has a machine around here." He doesn't take his eyes off her. But he does answer her question to him, after a pause, "Javier." And a smile, faint. Like he had to remind himself to do so.

"No. Thank you." They were separate thoughts rather than blind politeness to his offer of a drink. Earnest. "And I'm alive." is Abitha's flat assessment of her condition. Another day she could put on makeup, so she wasn't looking dead, anyhow. She nods to the name and adds, "Nice to meet you, Javier." though there's a slight wince, the littlest bit of admitted guilt in the look as she apologizes, "And... I guess I'm sorry I've been ducking an interview. I know you probably wanted to talk about this sooner. But... yaknow..." her hand lifts briefly to wave toward the gun and badge visible on his belt, gaze on them with a bit of wary intensity before returning to his eyes. It was a simple, one-word explanation, with a whole host of implications that were likely already passed along, "Cops."

By the steady look he gives her, nice to meet you isn't a phrase he hears an awful lot of from people. Not an awful lot of, at all. There's no response to it; just that flat, even stare, like he's assessing something about the girl while he waits. Then she speaks again, and he draws a breath, blows it out in a chuckle, and finally cuts his dark eyes away for a moment. "Look." And he does. He meets her gaze again, leans in a little to do so. His hands weave together on the desk between them, so she can see he isn't going for his weapon; the right is inked all the way up to his knuckles. "I get it. You've just had a really shitty experience with a couple of guys who should've known better. Who should've been there to help you. And they did the fucking opposite. I don't blame you. If I were you, I wouldn't want anything to do with me."

And he lets that sit there between them for now, his brows slightly furrowed as he regards her.

'Nice wasn't the right word, but wasn't the wrong word.' was what Sparrow had said, and it seemed to hold true so far. It's strange that the first curse word makes Abitha seem to relax the tiniest bit, like she didn't have to worry about certain things or being official.

"Alright, then we're on the same page." Abitha affirms, though her eyes do follow the hands and ink now they were closer, a thing of interest, as she knew police generally did not have so many exposed tattoos. It was almost out of place, if she were thinking along those lines, or it might occur to her later, but current business was business. "What is it you want to know from me, I guess? 'Cause I can hash out everything Liu said to me, his badge number, and the unit he reported as the night." She was cutting right to the chase, because she assumed by now that the rest had filtered through to Ruiz, and he might have more targeted questions. "I wasn't looking at his partner, but I assume you'll be able to find out who he was. He was in on it. He wanted to impress Liu, I could feel that, but I was... um... distracted." All that bluster seems to lose steam as she comes up to the part of the mental replay where she actually had been afraid of the man.

"We're on the same page," he agrees, voice that low, warm burr of sound like water tickling over rough stones. Dark eyes remain fixed on green for a long while, then slide away as he digs for a notepad in his jeans pocket. Fishes it out, turns it over once, then flips it open and produces a pen as well. The brim of his cap is adjusted before he begins to scribble. "Don't need his badge number. Don't know who his partner was that day, either. It wasn't exactly a, uh. Sanctioned stop." His eyes tick back up to her, and he pauses like he's considering something.

"Listen, I.." A muscle in his jaw twitches; he's conflicted about what he wants to say next. "There's an easier way to do this. If you're comfortable with it. I don' t blame you, if you're not." His pen is flipped between his fingers, one way and then the other, and then it stills. "I could read you." His tonguetip traces a canine while he tries to gauge her reaction to that.

"I mean, they said 'Unit 409' when they went to respond to something, don't you keep records of who's out with who or something?" she wondered, then there was his forthright question. Slow blink. Abitha stares across the desk at Ruiz. For anyone else, it could have been a mix of emotions that played across their faces. For Abitha is was pretty much confusion for a long moment. Her brows lower slightly and she looks curious then, reaching forward to pull the screen of her laptop down and shut. She does reach over and hit a button on that weird ethernet box.

"Read me how?" she asks, leaning forward and putting both elbows on the edge of her desk. Sure, she was just as powerful as him, but certain powers aren't always known and used by everyone. Guess this was going to be a week of learning new things her mind could do. The question of comfort is dismissed, the idea it could be awkward not crossing her mind.

Unit 409. Mention of it makes his brows furrow slightly, and he scrawls it down on his pad of paper before digging out his cell phone and cross-referencing something on it. Then he makes a little moue with his mouth, and shakes his head. "Might be Hallisey's designation. It's not Liu's. I told you." His eyes tick back up to her. "They weren't on official business, or this would be a lot fucking easier." His phone's shoved away again, and an irritated breath blown out his nose.

"Well, if you have something that one of them touched. Or.. gave you." He cocks his head to the side, dark eyes slanted as he regards her, crow's feet in abundance. "It's.. technically, I don't mean that I'd be, uh. Reading you. Reading the item is more.. more what I meant." Another attempt at a smile. He does not seem like someone who smiles much, though, and it falls rather flat.

There's a raising at the end of Abitha's mouth, her first instinct to make a sardonic grin. It didn't take hold, though. Instead a pinched look is made evident, like the muscles in her face were attempting not to let her express what she was really feeling. When she speaks, it's a small voice, tight with effort to remain in control.

"Everything they touched is ash now." She inhales through her nose, exhales through pursed lips, lets her eyes blink shut for a moment, recenters. "So if there's a way I can show you my memory, I can do that." A hand lifts to tap her laptop, "But I also have video. Plenty of it. From the night of the threat and the fire. My security system stores it offsite."

"Whichever you're most comfortable with," comes after a lengthy pause, wherein the man across from her clearly considers going in search of his answers by brute force. Because he could. He could. Tear down her defenses, find out what soft and and tender things are quivering underneath. And then where would they be?

He watches her breathe, and try to re-centre herself. Doesn't move a muscle from that lazy, space-eating sprawl he's got going on there. "I'd like to see the video, either way. I'd also like to see your memories, if you're comfortable showing them to me. Have you.." His eyes sliver a touch, something hot and restless skimming the darkness. "Tried it before? With anyone?"

Abitha wasn't privy to the aggressive, seeking thoughts behind the man's eyes. She was behaving, mentally, so there was no reason for her to be all 'Come at me, bro!', because then he'd go all Alakazam, and she'd go all Pikachu, and that would leave no one happy. Instead, she at least had an open mind.

"No?" she starts, her voice lifting in a question, as if she wonders herself, "I've sent images I could see before, and talked, but full memories? Seems kind of complicated." A dismissive shrug is made, like she were open to the idea, either not fully aware of what was involved, or at least fine with the results. She takes a moment of thought, then pops her laptop back open, "Here, lemme get it fresh, so there's no Fuzzy Trace." The screen makes a few different changes in color to the lighting in her face, going dark finally, as she turns the laptop to face Ruiz. She then gets up and comes around to a chair on his side so they can both watch it. It was paused, but queued up to 8:55pm, July 9th.

She gives him a sideways look, settling back in her chair and getting comfortable, drawing her legs up underneath her, asking, "So, how we do this?"

"Actually.." The cop leans to one side, and digs around in his pants pocket for a moment before producing a thumb drive, scissored between two fingers. "Would you mind?" If he downloaded the footage to that, presumably. It's placed on the desk between them, and a brief glance cut to the screen, then back to the girl, his expression mildly querying.

As for how they do this, "I find it easier with, uh." His fingers twitch once. Then with some hesitation, he reaches across the table, turns his hand palm up, and waits. Along with the tattoos scrawled up the back, all the way to the first knuckles, there are extensive scars and calluses on the palms. Clearly someone who's done some manual labour in his life. "Just think about what you want to show me. Try to remember what you heard. Felt. Smelled, tasted." His voice is a low purr, almost hypnotic in its timbre. "Let me do the rest."

Abitha takes a moment to plug in the thumb drive, inspects the size, then picks the most pertinent files and drops them into it. It starts to process as she hits play. There a moment where she looks at his hand hesitantly. He may or may not have picked up on a touch aversion, but... Slowly, she rests thin, dextrous fingers in his.

Turning her eyes on the screen, she can be felt reaching into her mind, opening a door and leaving it ajar behind her as she delves down into the sensations of the night of the 8th.

She was focused on memory, but it would be clear to him what her present living emotions were. Discomfort, chiefly. Physical contact was not her cup of tea. It was a strangely strong aversion, though not targeted specifically at the man. She also felt strangely ephemeral, like no matter how determined and focused she was, there was an almost painful ball of emotion linked to being cut loose of a large swath of things that were important to her. She was a kite without a string.

He's patient, imperturbably patient, the captain. Perfectly willing and able to wait until she's ready to initiate contact; or refuse it, as the case may be. His hand is warm, and he waits for her smaller one to settle in it before curving fingers around hers. Clasping them gently, but with room for her to pull away should she be inclined.

And the moment the touch is initiated, it is like an animal unleashed upon her. A surge of hot fur and the scent of blood and lightning; a subvocal snarl that has a taste as much as a sound. The door is opened, and it's a wolf that stalks through it, golden eyed, ears pricked, alert as it prowls into her mindscape.

Animal meets analytical, the mental recreation of the Control Pad stocked with the imagined bodies of two police officers and the recreated self-image of Abitha herself. Standing, or maybe floating, across the counter from the temporally correct Abitha, a psyche regards her past self. It was made of information, of logic. It was female, and it was androgynous, its hair floating out behind it like it were swimming. It was two huge green eyes and no face. It's body was ephemeral, having limbs one moment and simply the ghost of them drifting to nothing in the other. It turns to regard the animal. It doesn't blink. It may not even have the capability. This part didn't have the fear, but curiosity. The fear was buried in the memory: the girl behind the counter.

Abitha's mind-self seems to float over to the Ruiz-wolf. It was wise enough to be hesitant. It would reach out, attempt to place a data-hand in the thick scruff of the animal's mane. The control would be ceded to Ruiz, if so. She had called the correct file-path, it was his to analyze.

The beast is a curious contradiction, a juxtaposition of primal ferocity and steadfast calm. It paces slow, steady, an occasional glint of light off butcher's hook claws, or saliva dripping off serrated knives for teeth as its head swivels to gaze about. There's aggression in the way it moves, the rasp of its breathing as its golden eyes dart from one thing to the next, and yet.. it's clear that it isn't here for her. It isn't here to harm her. Those slim fingers made of data and circuitry dive into its fur, and it stills, and a breath gutters from its muzzle. As if an uplink had been established; information flowing from her to him. Its bright gaze cuts toward the still frame image of the two police officers, and its lips draw back over long, sharp teeth. A snarl, long and guttural. The burble of conversation fills its ears, the smell of Liu's breath, the sound of his footsteps.

The slow furl of smoke rising, and rising, and rising; the structure slowly beginning to burn.

With the level of mental acuity they both possess, it feels like it takes a lot longer than it should for the information dump to progress, the data ghost of Abitha sitting and watching each byte as it goes past and through and across to the wolf. The fuzzy picture of the man, the numbers on badges. She’d seen the buddy too, but could the wolf pull the numbers or name tag from her unconscious mind? She sends the videos of the night of the fire. She had watched them. From every camera. Seeing what they did, analyzing where they went and looked. Saw how they decided to torch the building and went ahead with it. No mercy. She includes what she found in her searches online as data points to add superimposed over Liu.

Each memory comes with it that compliment of feelings with it. The intimidated fear, the anger at watching the arson, the confusion of why someone would do such a thing.

But the wolf watches the last one. They both do. The eyes of the data ghost can not blink. They can not close. They watched. They watered. Pain was there. True pain. Everything she had built and made for herself were in those two stories. Her safe fortress was breached. He could feel the tightness of chest from the ensuing panic attack, the searing burn of her throat and lungs as she screamed and breathed smoke. She was breaking. She was wailing. She was alone.

The connection is made, and data flows in both directions; images and memories one way, bolstering calm the other. You're safe, it's done, they aren't here to hurt you. The wolf doesn't move a muscle, though its whole body is tense with the potential for sudden and savage violence as the enormity of what happened is revealed like a puzzle coming together. No mercy.

And then, in the last moments of it, the sheer terror of it; her home, her everything melting and fraying and coming to bright pieces around her like falling stars, there is perhaps a temptation to end it. To make this stop. A lesser man, perhaps, would. But what he wants.. no, not what he wants. What he needs is to see the faces of those who did this. And when he manages to catch a glimpse in the camera's feed just before they vacate the premises, this is when the mental link is severed with a snarl, and a pop of sparks, and everything goes black for an instant.

"I know that face," he tells her in that scratchy-soft voice. Not the wolf, but the cop with his hand around hers. Seated across from her at the gardening store. "I know who did this to you. Lo haré pagar por sus crímenes."

Abitha blinks and comes round, she glances to the clock, she actually wasn't even sure how much time had passed in all the information they had shared. Her head slowly turns away from the screen towards Ruiz, the blinks were, of course, to keep tears from coming, though her eyes were already red and glassy. But old-timer rearing took hold then, and she looked up, taking a steadying breath and pushing it back with a swear word.

"Yup, I speak three languages, and none of them are Spanish." Her voice was surprisingly whispy, like she'd been holding a breath she didn't know when she inhaled. She finally, slowly so as not to seem like she was recoiling from his touch, starts to bring her hand back. The back of her wrist is pressed to one eye, then the other. She finally looks back to him once her vision was clear, offering, "But if you give it to me, maybe I can do what I did with Liu."

He, too, seems a little jarred for a moment there. No reaction to her hand being withdrawn, if even he notices. "If I give you.. what?" is murmured, his voice rough as if with disuse. A quick glance about the room, like he needs to confirm where he is. When he is. Yes, he walked in here, sat down to talk to this girl. Interrogate her. A steadying breath of his own is drawn and released, and his dark eyes refocus on her brighter ones. "One of the men who torched your place. I recognise him. He hurt someone.. very dear to me." Very dear may be an understatement, given the depth of emotion underscoring those words.

He starts, then, to collect his notepad and push to his feet. "I think I have enough for now." A business card is slid from his pants pocket, and set on the table between them. "I'd like you to be in touch. If you think of anything else relevant, Ms. Machinae."

"Sorry..." Abitha is touching her face again, that was an experience a little advanced and jarring for her, and it left her feeling a little disoriented, "Name. Do you have a name? 'Cause like..." She was scrambling at this point, at least in a mental capacity to try to reclaim the footing she'd lost entering that memory-mind-link-whatever. He seemed fine, which was infuriating. "Like... I turned up all that stuff on Liu, like the dog-fighting shit, gambling shit." She... wait, had she said she had that? Had she thought it? She makes a noise as she reaches to click through some things on her laptop, going to a breakdown document of the things she'd come across on the deep-dive after Harvey Liu's info.

"What do you know about this other guy?" And as she's looking to him, asking, he can probably see her face fall as she realizes, she was now trying to ask after what a cop knew, "I mean... I want to help." she adds, sheepish.

"I don't have a name," confides the cop, with a note of chagrin in his voice. "Not yet." Though he's cogitating on something, and.. it's a bit of a long shot. A leap of faith, but. "I have a proposal for you. A mutually beneficial arrangement, if you'd be willing to consider it." By his body language, it's.. well, almost impossible to tell what he's getting at. He's a man who plays his cards pretty damned close to his chest. He's watching the girl's face, though, rather than trying to steal a glance at her laptop's screen.

Abitha issues a quick nod, hands coming up to tuck hair back over her ears, listening. Damn right she wanted to hear this. "I mean, I'm asking you to let me help, so... Yeah, shoot." And it wasn't so much trying to steal a glance, she'd turned it toward him. She was willing to share what she had, and from the looks of it, had her ways when it came to the digital side of things. Probably much better than the police force in town could handle.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, glances over his shoulder briefly as if to make sure they aren't being listened in on. Then turns back to the girl seated on the other side of the desk. And then clears his throat before stating quite clearly, "I'd like to bring you on as a temporary technical consultant on this case. Once the file's closed, your employment would be terminated." But that could be months. Or more. "Far as I understand, you're out a job right now, and we could use your help." Because, small town. Limited resources. He blows a breath out his nose, watches her, and waits expectantly.

This was actually a bit of a shock. For what Abitha had expected, this would probably be some sort of under-the-table thing, like all people in Gray Harbor who shined dealt with things. In this case it felt... official? Above-board? The time he waits is probably bordering on awkward before the gamer stands up. "I've never worked for someone besides myself, so... I'll try to figure that out." She takes a breath herself, "And thank you. You're right, I do need something to do." This time, it's her who offers a hand. Though, she can't really help herself.

"Please tell me I don't have to wear a badge, though? I think that would nuke my street cred."

The offered hand is accepted after a beat. Maybe he's sensed her reticence, where touch is concerned. He is an empath, after all, of no small ability. Just as she is. But the hand is accepted, and clasped in his bigger one, with its odd pattern of calluses. "There's no need to give an answer right away. Think on it. You have my contact information." A squeeze, a flicker of a smile that creases the corners of his eyes, and then he releases her.

"No. No badge. Not unless you're looking to become a cop." He turns for the door, tugs it open. "Think on it," is murmured again before he shoulders his way out.