2021-05-08 - Mr Anvilguard, I Presume

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Anvilguard, mm?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: :gif of cartoon cat face planting:

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: If I ever had any hope of no one noticing that bloody paper...

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'm short on things to notice this week. You look absolutely terrified, by the way. Did she have a gun to your back?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Might as well have. She grabbed my hand (you can imagine how I felt about that) and yelled for the photographer.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Making friends and influencing people, I see. Isn't grabbing someone like that technically assault? You should inquire with someone who ought to know. An ADA, perhaps.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... You realise I've spoken to this woman about three times, and her interest in me at that time pretty much boiled down to 'does he work for Felix Monaghan'?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: You don't, do you?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I've never even met the man.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: But I hang out with his cousin the bouncer, and I guess that might lead to some wrong conclusions in some places.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Mn. Not, strictly speaking, a no.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... No, I do not work for Felix Monaghan. I have no other ties to Felix Monaghan than the fact that his cousin is an okay bloke to have a whiskey with.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Good to know. I do like whiskey.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: You look decidedly less terrified around Hya, you know. Though of course I couldn't say how much the lower likelihood of her bodily drawing you into photo-ops might factor.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... How did we make this leap?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... Oh God, you think I'm dating her too.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Merely making an observation.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I'm not dating anyone. Tell you what? I already told Seth Monaghan, Røn and Rosencrantz respectively. If I ever do go on a date, I'll send you all a selfie with the unfortunate victim.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Good. I'm unbelievably bored so I hope it turns out to be soon.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Might I recommend day time TV?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Finish arranging dinner with Hya.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I suppose you might but I'd be slightly surprised.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: You know there's such a thing as somebody quietly changing their mind, yes?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: And have you?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Eeh. Meant more, she was going to pick a date and that was two months ago.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I'm not going to make a fuss about it. I like having her as a friend.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I doubt she was going to pick the date unilaterally or she would have simply informed you at the time when you were to pick her up.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Yes, I believe that was in fact the idea.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I meant right then.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: It's all right, really. Sometimes things just don't happen. No one'd even be thinking about this if I hadn't walked into Bennett by accident and gotten drafted as arm candy for some reason. Honestly think she was just trying to rile me up -- she seems like the kind of woman who likes showing a guy who's boss.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Family Feud is not drawing my interest. Name a piece of clothing people buy without trying on? All of them, if the results are any indication.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: In any case, if you've neither proposed a time nor decided that in fact you're not interested in there being one then I fail to see the logic in the idea that the former not yet happening on her side means the latter has. But regardless. Were you successfully riled up?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: There's such a thing as not rocking a boat just to see if someone falls out. I enjoy Hyacinth's friendship. Whether she's busy as all hell or she changed her mind -- neither's my business. Pestering her about it would probably only lead to losing the friendship as well, and I'm not willing to go there. Sometimes, it's better to leave things as they are. As for riled up? I don't know. Probably came close to breaking her fingers when she grabbed my hand. Made me buy her a drink while she asked me a couple of questions. Seemed pretty obvious to me she's wondering why the hell anyone'd open a nonprofit in Gray Harbor of all the places. I get that, nonprofits get used for money laundering all the time.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Well, it wouldn't make much sense to open it in Seattle if both oneself and those to be served by it live here. It's not as though you moved here to set up a nonprofit. Though I suppose that might be hard to prove to a stranger.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: But here would be perfect if I wanted to, say, move some money from some kind of low key illegal operation into Seattle. Like, say, through that very nice and largely abandoned industrial harbour we have. Which is not getting nearly the amount of attention that its Seattle counterpart does, because Veil. I'm not involved with anything like that -- but I do know how it works. Half my peers back home are affiliated in some way or other with the Russian mob or some other... shall we say, questionable connections.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: So yes, I am not at all surprised if the DA wants to look us over at some point. It's just, there's nothing to hide, so, well, let 'em.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Mm. Nearly breaking her fingers seems fair, though. In a non-Russian-mob manner, obviously.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: It wasn't intentional. My fingers locked.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: This seems largely irrelevant to the fairness of it.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Just saying, I'm not really prone to breaking people's hands.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: We discover new aptitudes at the most surprising times.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Myes, well. Maybe the ADA is the wrong place to start making enemies. There's a lot of weird going on in this town and she doesn't have the shine. Just the personality type to keep digging.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I wonder what would happen to the mind of someone who hasn't got it but somehow won't stop digging? Can't imagine it would go well. No, though, ADAs and their ilk are generally better to have on friendly terms, I suppose.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: That's what I'm figuring. Besides, I generally don't treat people impolitely unless they give me reason to. Bennett's a strange one -- all ice queen, tough cookie. But at the same time she seems like she's actually interested on some level that confuses even her. I think she's just... asking herself what the hell she's doing here.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Understandably. It's not precisely the land of high-powered lawyers, and if she's looking for money launderers at random events presumably she's ambitious. Though if she's not one of us, as it were, what the hell is she doing here, I wonder? My impression was the place likes collecting sparkly things, but if she's not...

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I asked her. The first time we met. She said she's here because of some drug ring. Apparently a lot of stuff comes through from the ocean. Just like home, really, the Russians ship through the Baltic -- which means our seaports.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Logical, I suppose. Likely enough trucks going through for the same reasons, to move it onward. Still... surely there are appropriate lawyers out there who do shine? Mildly surprising someone finding themselves out here for that sort of thing doesn't.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Beats me. It's not something I've considered a lot. It's obvious to me that HOPE will attract a lot of investigation -- not because we're doing anything illegal but because it's the easiest way for the Veil to hit us, making us look suspicious. I didn't think it'd start until we actually officially open but, eh.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: You know, you talk as though the other side of the Veil is inherently against us. I don't believe it is. The dolorphages, yes, but they're not 'the Veil'. We don't really even know whether they're of it, or simply able to manipulate it somehow, or... much at all, really.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: In this case, that's exactly what I'm thinking. Only, not everything on the other side -- specifically the dolorphages. They're the ones we're challenging, and they're the ones who will give us trouble. The rest of the Veil, I doubt anything there cares or takes an interest, or even knows about us.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I intend to see about going to the library, soon. After I break free of this place, and that at least will be today if I've anything to say about it. Care to join us?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: The library? I go there regularly. I need to go pick up a couple of books I requested from the University of Seattle, actually.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Not that library. Although actually I wouldn't mind dropping by there either, I've a couple things to return. No, The Library, note portentous capitals added for clarity. Likely best we're reasonably healed up first, though, just in case.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... What library is this?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: The one Bax wants us to retire to eventually. The Interdimensional Lending Library. Not to be confused with the local Veil library, which you might also be interested to see at some point.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I did not realise such a place existed. A library on the other side is definitely something I'd be interested in. Is this like L-space? The library to connect them all? Lost tribes of research students, don't call the orangutan a monkey?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Quite possibly. I've not seen an orangutan librarian as yet, but none of them have seemed quite human, either. L-space or not, it certainly contains quite a lot of knowledge. Also some bat-like creatures and some cow-sized silverfish, I'm afraid, though at least temporarily slightly fewer after our last visit.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Imagine how good anyone spying on my texts must think the painkillers are here.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: If my cell ever gets confiscated, I won't need to try very hard to convince anyone that I've spent time in a psych ward.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I may have to try harder to convince people I've not.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Now my brain is all spinning along the lines of 'oh man, if I have access to all the information ever recorded, what do I actually want to look at'

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Tell me, what are we actually going to go look for?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: A bit of advice: if you decide you might want to get a card there, set aside at least a full evening to read the form before you sign it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: As for what we're going to look for... I want to see what more we can discover about the books of the Arts.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: The whatnow?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: The books of the Arts. There are, apparently, three. As one might guess, once told there were any. Last year, a number of us had run-ins with them, though we didn't know what they were at the time. Recently, Bax and I and some others met one again. It told us what it was -- and it was the book of the mind Arts. Emptied out, but no longer corrupted, as it had been. We gave of our Arts to help start filling it again.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: What we gave returned, thankfully. Over a bit of time. But it warned us that while it had only been, mn, wiped, I suppose, the other two had been destroyed, and that they might not be in quite as chatty a mood.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: The ... books are chatty. Right. It makes sense in context. I think I may be able to connect a few dots here, I remember hearing about somebody giving up some of their power temporarily, something. Right. I'm definitely interested in hearing more about this.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Imagine, though. Books of each Art, defining or even merely recording everything about them. I would absolutely check those out given the appropriate card.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Absolutely, might give us some pretty solid pointers on how this all works.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Exactly. I saw pages fill as I poured the power into them; I presume at present the books won't say anything we don't, collectively, already know. And before they were mostly-destroyed, they were corrupted, somehow. But even so... there will be information in them we don't yet have, over time.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: What we collectively know is quite a lot that not one single person knows, too. I keep finding out things that other people go '... but this is old news' about. It's all old news to somebody. But when we piece it together, we learn things.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Yes, precisely. Which is why more people ought to tell me more things. But I would quite happily take this in hardbound form.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Oh, I wish. I often feel like I spend most of my time trailing after people going 'actually, when you said, what did you mean...'

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I've tried this. It's less effective than I'd prefer.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Yes. But it's the best I can do. Human interaction is not my forte.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'm better at some bits than others.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Same. Academic debate? I'm up. Shoulder to cry on? Anytime.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Mn. I might join you in the former, but the latter is all yours. Although if one merely needs to complain to the shoulder, mine may be amenable. Rather depends.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: It took ages when I got here to get anyone to sit down and properly talk to me at all about All This.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: People seem to be fairly eager to talk to me about this once they sniff out that narratives is literally what I do. Until then, though, no, not really. A number of people talk to me because we're friends. Most, though? I think it's the nature of the Veil itself -- people hesitate because a lot of the time, they don't even have the words to describe what they experienced, and they inherently don't quite trust that they won't just be dismissed as crazy.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Really, more people ought to just tell me more things in general.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Mm-hmm. What would you like me to tell you?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Everything that you know about things around here which I don't yet. I admit that's a tricky Venn diagram to pluck from the ether, however.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I don't even know how to sort out my own life, nevermind 'things around here'. What I do know? Baba Yaga tells us there's a storm coming. The dolorphages will fight me teeth and claw over HOPE, just like they do de Santos. That's... it? That's pretty much where my time goes lately -- trying to find out what this storm is supposed to be, trying to predict every move from the other side. Such as curious ADAs who may or may not be related at all to this.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: There's a decided difference between sorting out things around here and simply knowing things. But the former is generally assisted by the latter. Knowledge is proverbially power, after all.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Yes, I suppose so. Well, if you need someone to talk to you about narrative archetypes in cultural heritages, I'm your man. The rest of the time, I'm a guy who lives on a boat with a cat and drinks too much. Just trying to put things into perspective here -- no one in Gray Harbor can really be this sage figure who knows everything, because most of the people who shine in the first place are... shall we say, a lot of us are barely functional in the first place.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: You know how when That Guy gets seen in public with a woman, four people text him within twenty-four hours to go Oh my god, are you actually seeing somebody? I'm that guy.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: It may help to think of it this way: I'm not looking for expertise. Although quite possibly narrative archetypes may be a useful way of arranging some what we know. I'm looking for what it is that people know. Because if it's known, I want to know it as well. How can we understand anything without assembling the facts?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Also, while declaring yourself That Guy, please keep in mind I've been bored out of my skull for the better part of a painful week. Not that I mightn't text about it in any case, but all the same.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Much as I too would like to know everything, there's one thing Gray Harbor's told me: Don't even try. Just roll with the punches. Make the best of it. At least you get an interesting life and people who care about you. Focus too hard on understanding everything, and you're probably going to end up disappearing into that library at some point. Although I suppose that if that's the actual end plan, it could be worse.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I mean, my end plan goes something like, when I inevitably get lost on the other side, make sure it's at least somewhere interesting.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I've never done well with the idea of not attempting to understand things. I don't particularly expect to improve at it now.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Understanding, to me, means imposing structures. Order. Sanity. The harder you try that on the Veil, the harder it will fight you. I'm not advocating we don't try to learn. Just, I'm not ambitious enough or confident enough to think that I can somehow do what no one else has managed to do, and understand it. At best, learn how to predict actions and reactions.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Understanding, to me, means discovering the structures. Everything has them, at some level. If we fail to discern them, it doesn't mean they don't exist. When we see how things fit together, that's when we learn to predict actions and reactions.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: It's certainly how we try, and that does count for something. Hell, it's the one thing in my life I've actually done half decent at -- trying to piece together the story of this place. I didn't realise you were this passionate about it all, I admit. My mistake -- I had you pegged more as someone who tolerates the Veil's interference because there isn't really an alternative, I did not think you were actively interested in it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: It's why I'm here, and not simply focusing on the branch of the patisserie in LA. Which is certainly the one that gets the attention. I'd presumed simply because the city's far bigger and contains more people who care about such things, but, hm. Earlier you referenced the Veil as a reason shipping here might not be noticed. Are you thinking the thinness of it here has some sort of actual cloaking effect?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Let me ask a counter question: Did you know that the murder ratio (read: any kind of traumatic death, i.e. not natural causes) in Gray Harbor is ten times that of the rest of Washington State? Do you know how much investigation the FBI has done into this?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Clayton put that together. The Veil is definitely screwing with things to keep the lid on.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Ten times? And no, I don't, but from context I'm going to guess 'remarkably little'.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Yeah. Things get covered up, rationalised away, go without being noticed. Same way we get our asses handed to us by a small horde of vengeful undead in the HOPE basement but the Gazette prints a story about a gas leak explosion.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'd noticed the 'official story' situation. Not just what's in the paper, but the things people discuss around town. In retrospect, that's part of what was odd about that series of 'revisions' we had. People were accepting things that, generally, I'd have expected to hear made more... normal. At least a bit.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: You mean you don't find it plausible that a woman aged twenty has twelve kids by two fathers?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I find it rather unlikely, yes. Particularly as she'd lived here all her life and the putative fathers arrived here after I did.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I'll just... turn up on the pier three nights a week and wonder who actually does breed those lobsters and send out the invitations, because the league folks certainly turn up and the fights certainly happen, and I have yet to raise a finger to make it happen.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: How does that even actually work? And do you really eat the losers? I rather fancy lobster after what they serve in here...

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Sure we do. As far as I am concerned, that's the point.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: And honestly? I'd write the Revisionist again, except, I've kind of come to enjoy hanging out with those guys. It's a social life, don't judge me.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Judging people is my social life.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Though if you provide me with some decent lobster I might judge favourably.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: They're in good physical shape at least?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Also, I think by most people's standards you're pretty much the embodiment of success? I realise that doesn't necessarily feel like one has a rich social life.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: A good start, certainly.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Oh, I wasn't complaining. Although once in a while it might be nice to feel a bit more, mn, integrated, I suppose. But some people respond more favourably to me than others and alas I'm firmly assured I can't do much about other people's poor taste.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Yes, I do realise just how much I sound like a privileged asshole for saying it but: You and I are never going to be 'integrated'. At least not unless we chose to 'integrate' with our own social strata, and I for one don't plan to spend the rest of my life at the Casino.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'd say you seemed fairly integrated, at least as I'd mean it, but I admit that sort of thing doesn't necessarily appear the same from different vantage points.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: And at the risk of sounding even more like a privileged asshole, I doubt the majority of the casino patrons are of our own social strata either. Though if I thought that were a notably bad thing, I wouldn't be living in a lumber town in Washington at present. Even a fascinating one.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: American nouveau riche, eh? Yeah. We are a pair of aristo brats, aren't we? But that's the thing. There are a number of people in this town I have come to care very deeply about. People I call friends, people I'd take a bullet for. But there's always going to be that little ... difference. Not sure whether it's me not being able to go 100% native, or it's me just being shit with people in general. I can have a cheap beer at the Pourhouse, and the boys will happy enough to see me, but I'm never going to be one of the boys.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I would say it's the difference between integration and assimilation. We'd never really assimilate, whether we want to or not.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I don't, for the record, so if you find me wearing a flannel shirt and drinking a Budweiser please do feel free to presume some sort of Veil-related shenanigans are likely involved. Or I've made and lost a very ill-judged wager.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Integration, though... I see that as more possible. Still who we are, still different to most of what surrounds us, but becoming part of the overall picture. One can, theoretically, belong without becoming something else to blend in.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I don't think I have ever worn a flannel shirt in my life. I have thought about it... The whole wearing black thing was largely because it's so convenient when you live in a backpack. I suppose I don't technically have to stick with it. Sometimes I consider maybe just... you know, a flannel, a pair of blue jeans, look like everyone else in this town. Then I remember that I may dress the part but I'll never manage to sound or act the part.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'm quite happy restricting my flannel to suits. Blue jeans do have their appeal, though.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: More than one part one could be acting, of course. Were one inclined to do so.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I can fake it.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: But, people know you well enough, long enough, faking doesn't cut it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Mm. I don't know that I could. But I'd have to have substantial incentive to bother trying to find out.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: It's what I've been doing all my life. See above 'well enough, long enough' about why I've never stuck around anywhere for long.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Why?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Trying to belong is human nature, I figure.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Well, yes. To a point, anyway.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: To a point, certainly. I've played a great deal of roles in my life. Never really found one that felt like ... it was really me. Gray Harbor is the first time in my life I've felt that it didn't entirely matter. That sure, folks around here figure I'm probably a tad eccentric but what the hell, it's Gray Harbor, we're all a little nuts around here.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Are you playing a role now? Or doing what feels like it's you?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I think I am realising that I'm not really sure who me is, sometimes. I go with the flow a lot. And I struggle, sometimes, because the longer I stay, the better people get to know me. I've spent most of my life not getting noticed by anyone. Now I'm apparently someone who ends up on the front page of the Gazette. I'm not really used to the idea that I might be a person of interest -- and I'm not, I mean, it's Bennett plus arm candy, but enough that people are asking me about it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Well, it's true it wouldn't have registered as particularly interesting to me if it were any other arm candy. With exception. Still, point remains.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Who you are when no one's looking, though -- that's arguably the purest distillation. Though it doesn't do well for the under-pressure sorts of questions.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: When no one's looking I'm a very quiet guy who lives in a boat with his cat and plays the violin when he thinks no one's around to listen. And if I never see my face on a newspaper front page again until I'm a ghost reading my own eulogy, I'll be happy.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Then perhaps you're better acquainted with who 'you' is than you think. I doubt I'm quite so front-page averse as you, but reading one's obituary does seem like one of the better reasons to stick around as a ghost for a bit.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: To be fair, sticking around to do that is kind of a family tradition. I think I said, my home is haunted to kingdom come. Mostly because people seem to have forgotten to bloody well pass on.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: So few people take their schedules seriously.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I could see myself grow old like that. Might buy a boat with enough deck space for a rocking chair. Sit there with Kitty Pride the Nineteenth, watch the stars, tell the grasshoppers to get off my pier.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: There are worse aspirations.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Hey, I'm sure Ol' 19 will be a great girlfriend. He'll be cuddly.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: All the best things in a girlfriend.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I repeatedly consider getting a cat, but they do insist on shedding on things.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'm fairly sure if I require that Bax can find a way.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I'll stick with cats for suitable furniture destruction. Not that I don't like Bax but, your cat, you feed him. I've seen how much he can tuck away.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: He's not currently available for rehoming in any case. Check again if he discovers how to shed independently.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: 😄

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Don't think Kitty Pryde no 1 would appreciate competition anyhow. She's finally got me properly house trained and we've only got two bunks on the Vagabond. Obviously there is not room in my life for more companions unless they're giant tunas and on a platter that says 'kitty kibble'.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'd say that doesn't qualify as companionship but there was that whole thing in Germany a few years back, I suppose.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Do I want to ask?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: More than a few years, actually. I think I heard of it in high school. But that man who advertised for another to let him kill and eat him.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: ...so no, I suppose you probably didn't want to.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Oh. Right. I remember reading about that. I want to say my cat is just a harmless little thing but, uh, yeah. I told you about the body in the dumpster. Let's not annoy her, and let's not give her any ideas about human sized tunas.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: No cat is truly a harmless little thing. That's one of the reasons I like them. But yes, I promise not to be the one to put such ideas in her head.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: She is a cat. Kinney assured me of it. But that doesn't mean she's not a right little bitch when it suits her, and the Veil did create Holt's Uncat based on her.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: So what you're telling me is: she is in fact a cat.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Yes, except that once, this particular cat got noticed, and now there is a very large, very powerful copy of her that has been adopted by Kailey Holt. Also, it's not the only one of its kind. Some of those kittens got sent back into the Veil. I've met one of them since. They're bloody terrifying.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I'm not saying it's not a thing to worry about. I'm saying it's innate to being a cat. Probably even more innate to Veil-copycats, though, yes. Are they all as big as the one in the basement?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Moe was, at least. I think. I was a plastic figure on a shelf when I met him again. It's a long story that involves me doing a cameo as the Count from Sesame Street. But he talked, and he was definitely larger than a house cat. Belonged to a kid who was definitely a Veil kid.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: One moment, I need to endanger my stitches with the idea of you being cast as a plastic muppet Count.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... I even had the cape.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Ah ah ah?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Did you have the accent?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Well, I have an accent.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: We all have an accent. It's not the same.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Well, I'm obviously not Romanian.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: You're obviously not purple felt, as well.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Nice to see it was cleverer than making you the Swedish Chef, although that would also have been amusing.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Look, I had to take orders from a My Little Pony.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I definitely require the full details of this incident. For Veil creature purposes, and certainly not because it sounds quite funny.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Maybe when I pop over next. Holt was there too -- she was some kind of pink plastic Transformer toy.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: I hesitate to think what sort of toy I'd have been turned into. Can't imagine an Easy Bake Oven would get much accomplished. Aside from perhaps some tiny terrible cakes.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: ... Now I'm glad I don't have stitches.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Good, then you can definitely navigate the lifts at Bayside this evening and come tell me the rest of the story after I get home and settled.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: Hah, deal.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Speaking of which, the doctor is in the hall. Time to let him know he's ready to send me home. Talk to you shortly. Don't let any ADAs drag you off unexpectedly meanwhile.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn: I'm never going near that bloody Casino again.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv: Have a good day, Mr Anvilguard.