2020-09-20 - Arson, Arson Everywhere

It's been a few days since Grant Baxter was hurriedly moved out of his trailer and relocated to what had previously been AJ's bedroom, unoccupied for the last few months. His previous home had burned down that same night, but not until after some of his things had been rescued. Given that the place was crispy less than an hour later? It might look suspicious. Which might be why Sparrow's been a teensy tiny bit on edge since. Now that the weekend's rolled around, she seems content to stay in and get her house in order, make sure everybody has everything they need and all is right with the world. And, ya know, not deal with the all the looks she gets every time she goes out, ranging from pitying to judgmental. This dual reality nonsense has gotta stop.

When it sounds like there's a lull in Abitha's streaming, a game just ending, a sign-off issued, some general quietude after the usual shouting, she knocks lightly on the door to the make-shift studio, waiting for an okay instead of just barging right on in.

Weekend is a good time for Abitha to clean as well, and she was generally pretty studious about her areas. The lull was probably after a vacuum had been run, and when Mac opens the door, the light smell of wood and glass cleaner was evident, though not so strong. There was another chemical smell, though. One of the quilts had been tied back and the window was cracked to vent.

“Hey, girl, hey.” Is the casual greeting emitted, the gamer opening the door wide and stepping back to set a spray bottle and roll of paper towels down on a desk. She was in some wetsuit-windowed leggings and a sleeveless V-neck, casual stuff she normally wore to clean, because she sure didn’t wear activewear to actually be active all that often. Her hair was all wrapped up and... wet? It was a weird color. Was she doing something to it? “Sup?”

Sparrow can't help but give her shoulders a little twist-and-dip at that greeting. She's ultracasual today, too, probably not planning on leaving the house at all. Or, well, at least not any time soon. Her oversized white tee shirt declares DIBS ON THE DRUMMER in glossy black letters, a monochrome contrast to colorful star-patterned leggings that might make Rainbow Brite envious. As might that sheen to Abitha's hair! The purple-haired drummer's eyes go wide with excitement. "You know I've got someone who does that for me professionally on the cheap and she's amazing and I can introduce you, right?" Which is to say: you should do this more often, and I am glad to enable that. "But! Been meaning to catch up with you about the Bax situation. And how eerily similar it seems to yours, what with the trailer going up, like. Right after Cris and I left. Which, I mean. You've been checking the cameras you set up, right?"

The excitement has Abitha a little blown back, A bit more white to the eyes as she has to agree to it, if only because of the force of the question, “I mean... Uh... Yeeaah?” The last word was a drawn out, inquisitive agreement, but an agreement nonetheless. Welp, hopefully she wasn’t ruining her hair with the lightener anyways. She’d done a shit-ton of research first but... Well a professional would probably be better. Her eyes lift to Sparrow’s hair, the look of acceptance on her face betraying that given the usual appearance of her color... This was likely the best plan. Then she’s back to something she actually has expertise in.

“I haven’t seen anything other than normal neighborhood traffic, and well...” her voice lowers in frustration, “...shirtless pics every time Jens shows up...” Which was why it wasn’t on Motion detection in the first place... “And yeah, I heard about the fire down at the precinct, but I didn’t know it was his!” She frowns in thought, “Why’s it always gotta be fire?”

Introductions will have to wait until Sparrow has her phone in hand. Chances are, those super-cute leggings are not also super-useful, lacking any functional pockets. And, besides, she's rather promptly distracted by the note about roaming Jenses caught shirtless in the wild like maybe she might wanna see about getting some stills. But no, no. Focus, Phil! "Cuz it's easy?" she says of the fire. "I mean. Assuming it's not all gasoline and matches. Though I guess that's easy too, prolly. Just." Her lips press thin. "It happened, like, less than an hour after Cris and I got out of there. And we didn't see anybody lurking. Nothing out of the ordinary. Which means they got there after we left. And I really can't imagine they didn't turn the place inside out before torching it. Like, why burn it if what they're looking for's inside, right?" Her eyebrows pitch upward for a second like she's gonna say more on that note, but she doesn't, a little headshake marking the shift down some other avenue. "I'm not sure we've got much more info here besides that they were looking for Greg and-or his coke and drove a black civic. But, yeah, it looks like it might be connected." For which she sounds unduly apologetic. It's surely not her fault.

Picking up her own phone, Abitha breaks out that little note-taking app to get the info down as Sparrow starts to talk. It was all related, theoretically, and more data just meant more possible connections. There is a brief glance of Abitha’s eyes at the casual mention of ’his coke’, here eyebrow twitching. Sure, this was Washington, and Abitha wasn’t unfamiliar with certain drugs, but certain pharmaceuticals were still quite illegal... and dangerous... And... Well, let’s face it, Coke just sort of had that reputation.

“I mean, you’re right, if they were trying to cover up how or what they they were looking for, like they did for my shop. They couldn’t run the cameras, so they figured just burn it.” Slight sigh, it almost was’t that much of a reaction anymore, as familiar as she’d gotten with the idea. “Was Greg hooked in on what was already in the town? We’re they just trying to hurt competition?” She wonders aloud. ’Were they the devil they knew?’ She seemed to be asking.

Sparrow doesn't mention how much coke it was. Or that it was found. Or by whom. Or who it left with. Those just don't seem like particularly pertinent details. Especially for someone who might be kinda cop-adjacent right now. Better to keep the concept of cocaine nice and nebulous right now. "Yeah," comes for the question about Greg, glossing right over any reflexive sympathy for the situation Mac's still working her way out of. Information's better than concern, right? "He had a legal business, too. Green Harbor?" Is the place still around? Weed isn't really her thing, unless somebody else is sharing. "But I'm gathering he was pretty well-established on the less-than-legal side for a while. I mean." She cracks a grin, a little off-center. "Parties at his place were always good." But that's beside the point, right?

"This isn't my world, but." She leans her shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over her chest. "What I know is that the chief of police was killed. And then his funeral got shot up. And I know not everybody present was necessarily on the up-and-up. Just like at the casino. And--" Her brow furrows as she works through another detail, not sure if it's relevant. "I know there was an attempted kidnapping?" A hand wobbles, expressing her uncertainty about its relevance. "Then your place. And Bax's. Which was about a theoretically large quantity of coke. Oh! And, uh. Cris getting run off the road by some asshole who stole Joey's car." Beat. "Not that I'm admitting to their involvement in anything. Cuz I don't know shit. Just. I mean. It's weird, right? Potentially relevant." More data to connect.

“Never been,” with a shrug tells Sparrow all she really needs to know about Mac’s interest in anything green besides the color and its use as an accessory. “But it would make sense. Like, almost like some form of piracy? Take the competition’s stuff and sell it as your own. All profit.” As long as no one died. There’s a knowing nod, both at the fact of the spheres they lived in and what extraplanetary entanglements they’d admit to.

“I totally get it. Wasn’t my shit either.” A puff one would expect to blow back a loose bang if it weren’t for the lightener in her hair slicking everything back, Abitha makes a brief thoughtful sigh, “I dunno, I know a lot of it is connected, from what Javier and Wilkerson are on, but... Tying down the assholes has been hard.” She glances behind her to the desk, the thoughts almost drawing her eye toward that PS4 that sat unboxed on her table corner. She hadn’t been sure what to do with it at first, but having a clean space was the priority for the best results. Her eyes return to Sparrow, seeming to process something late, something she didn’t remember.

“Kidnapping?”

"Like Blackbeard," Sparrow quips dryly of the piracy, applying brutality to what might otherwise be just a competitive business strategy. Her lips part like she has something to say on the point of catching the baddies, but she's still quiet when Mac looks back from her consideration of the PS4. Sometimes, it's better to not say the bad ideas--or bad jokes--aloud. "Attempted," she clarifies of the kidnapping. "Pretty sure it failed. The police were on scene, so there should be a report. Last month at Table Thai." With a shrug, she adds, "But it might not be related at all. I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm just connecting anything that has either fire or gunfire in town lately and allowing that they might be related, but." Another shrug. Not her area of expertise. "You know if your side of things had anything to do with drugs?"

A slight pinch at the edges of Abitha’s eyes betray her having to give thought to the words ’your side’. She hadn’t until now, considered they were on different sides of this thing. Of course, that just made sense. Cop free zone reminder, no admittance of anything. It seems to click into place for the gamer with that same opened mouthed, but silent, ’Oh’. It accompanies a soon-followed shrug, though, so it didn’t seem to offend her sensibilities. “I’m not sure if they knew that was related... Or if I just hadn’t heard. I wonder if there’s anything that links them...” More notes, of course, alongside the assertion, “If the cops had anything to do with it, I don’t know about it. If the other side of cops did... Well... I’m working on something. Hoping to get some correlation going. I dunno.” There’s frustration on her face as she thinks about it, the possibilities, the road blocks. “I wonder if any of the names I have drive a black Civic... Cause goddamn if they couldn’t have picked a more generic ass ricer.”

As for the things about slim connection of events, “I mean, alongside all this bullshit, there’s a serial killer that’s obsessed with Battle for Babylon, so...” A single finger is raised, twirled in the air, “Woo...”

Sparrow probably should have considered her word choice a little better before hand. She doesn't even realize there's any issue with her phrasing, any double meaning that might imply they're standing on different sides, until she starts processing Abitha's answer. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion before her expression melts into apology, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I meant more, uh. Do you know if the fire at your place had anything to do with drugs. Not..." She gestures vaguely with one hand, but manages to communicate all of nothing. "The increasingly obvious divergence in our friends' and associates' interest in the law." She flashes an awkward smile as her gaze skirts off to the side. "It's weird. How serial killer is somehow less scary right now? How the fact that this isn't our first prolly should terrify me, but instead? It just makes the drug war thing that's hitting way closer to home seem all the heavier, ya know? I can keep the serial killer thing all abstract and not mine."

"Yeah, I didn't really think I was making it mine either, then..." Maybe it was the way she'd been standing, talking, but until now it wasn't really front and apparent. Or maybe some cosmic controlling forced was being absent-minded minded today. The world may never know. Abitha holds up a hand, showing off the weird injury. It had scabbed by the morning, but it almost looked like someone had carved a symbol of a tree into her hand.

"Then, I got fucking isekai'd, which was actually a pretty cool experience, and got this." Sigh. "Life's interesting and all. Think I'm gonna just start focusing on the shop rebuild." Her eyes seem to trail off to the side, as if another thought or possibility had come to mind, then she seems to get frustrated. Like she could really just let these things go...

Then. Yeah. Sparrow gets it, a gloomy sort of sympathy crossing her features. Even before the mark is revealed. Straightening, she extends her right foot forward and tugs up her leggings a little, just enough to reveal the jagged, thorny, vine-like scar that wraps part-way around her ankle. "Yeah." She seems just as enthusiastic about the cool new scar she got from over there. She stoops down to fix her pants leg. "You should definitely focus on rebuilding the shop. Leave the serial killers to the serial-killer-catchers." When she straightens, she admits, "But I'm not always good at should either, so." For a second, it seems like she might just leave it at that, but she eventually adds, "You need some distraction from the nonsense, lemme know. I'm pretty good at personalized distraction packages."

There’s a comical rolling snort that comes from the gamer in confirmation of the fact that the difference of*should* and would were the two directions they both seemed to stray. Abitha offers a smile, “Yaknow? I might take you up on that...” Her eyes briefly rise, though when she looks back to Sparrow its probably more of a way to draw attention, “At least if it’s to introduce me to your stylist cause... This is an experiment that could go very very wrong.” Her cheeks pull out and down in a grimace.

“Speaking of which, I should probably go wash this out. Witness the horror.”

"Can't wait." To witness the horror, she means. Of course, the way Sparrow says it, sounds like she's got all the faith in the world that it's gonna turn out awesome. Just, ya know, not quite as awesome as a professional might manage. "I'll introduce you to Nicole. Curl Up & Dye is her place. Been doing my hair for years. And she's promised to marry me one of these days." The cheesy brow-waggle fits her light tone. "But you know where to find me if you need anything, and I'll letcha know if I hear anything more." She starts to turn away then stops. "And if you catch anything on the camera, lemme know? Maybe especially if it's a shirtless Jens."