2021-11-25 - Killer electronics

Gail stands at the end of the street, a piece of paper in her hand, and cane leaning against her hip. The paper is unfolded and she squints through reading glasses onto the loopy swirls of her cursive writing. "Ah, where the old thrift store was." She nods once as she folds the paper up and then stuffs it into her pocket firmly. Grip back on cane and she goes back to walking up the street, purposeful.

Ravn Abildgaard has strict coach's orders to walk, every day, all year round, to improve his stamina. And considering that Joey Kelly's advice so far has done more for his asthma than any actual medical practitioner has managed, he lives by it.

This is of course how the Dane happens to pad up behind his across-the-street neighbour and greet her with a cheerful, if accented, "Afternoon!" And as always, he's in black from top to toe -- jeans, boots, wind breaker. The only thing that isn't black is a dark purple scarf -- it's getting cold as fall progresses and threatens to turn into winter.

Gail pauses - better to keep one's eyes on the way ahead when walking - and looks up as the cheerful greeting meets her. Her walking cane is the kind that can stand by itself if it wants to, and she raises her hand in greeting. "Hello neighbor, How are you doing this lovely day?" Gail's one of those annoying glass-half-full people.

Gloved hands in pockets, cheeks a little rosy from keeping a brisk pace; copper blond hair the usual look (confused, very bushy-tailed squirrel is a look). Ravn doesn't mind catching his breath a little. "Not too bad. Haven't had any bad dreams for a couple of days. In this town you certainly learn to appreciate a quiet week where the height of excitement seems to be whether to serve tuna or chicken cat food. Guessing wrong will earn me most disapproving looks."

"Quite excellent to hear," Gail exclaims, honestly happy to hear that there has been a minimum of bad things happening to Ravn on the mystical side of the road lately.

She takes her cane back in her hand and gestures with it vaguely for Ravn to proceed with her. "Tuna, of course. Chicken is so easy to do poorly. Now, come. I need a young pair of eyes for this errand, you do have a few moments, yes?"

The 'tak' of designer stiletto heels announces Perdita's presence long before she turns the corner. Today is a day for jewel tones, it seems. A long, flowing blue silk skirt whips up around mid thigh as she turns the corner, threatening, ever so briefly, to go higher, before a carefully placed hand preserves what little modesty she insists on in public. A black faux fur coat is buttoned closed over a mock turtleneck, and Perdita's hair has been laboriously straightened from the damnable curls SOMEONE keeps forcing upon her every time she wakes up from a Dream, and is currently up in a high ponytail.

Spotting Ravn, she begins heading his direction with a raised eyebrow.

"I have to walk, but no one said I could not walk wherever it is you're going," the Dane agrees, amicably enough. Whoever this little old lady is, they're clearly on at least familiar terms. "Kitty Pryde is partial to tuna, though. I think it's a matter of principle -- her Veil copy prefers tuna, so so does she. She mimics her copy a lot, I think she's very impressed with her."

That's normal. Of course.

A wave goes out to Perdita. "How's the day treating you? No surprise hair treatments this night?"

"Back in my day shoes like that would have you labeled a lady of the night," Gail says as Perdita approaches, smiling as if she didn't just call the woman a hooker. Hello, how are you, is overrated. "It is good to meet the friends of these youngsters." Ravn gets an airpat before she starts walking again.

"My daughters have told me that if I do not get a "cell phone," she doesn't do the finger air quotes, mostly because that's not her generation, but her voice implies them, "they will go to court to bring me back." DEEP sigh there, "Pesky girls that they are."

"I spent an hour straightening it." Perdita answers Ravn with more than a hint of irritation, but she smiles at Gail as she approaches, barely keeping it together, because she wants to bust out laughing. She's not even wearing hose, you can see her whole ANKLE.

"Well, as the great Mae West once said," Perdita quirks an eyebrow at Gail, still smiling, "'it's better to be looked over than overlooked.'"

"I like her, she speaks her mind." she tells Ravn, falling into step beside the man easily.

Ravn manages to only wince and not actually squeak when patted, however casually. Thirty-one years and he still doesn't see it coming; some people just are that slow on the uptake.

"Gail, meet Perdita, and the other way around," he says with a somewhat strained smile. "Gail is my new neighbour across the street. Perdita is a friend -- we went to the same kind of school." Living on the street is a school; sue him. "Didn't Mae West also say that it's not the number of lovers in your life that counts, it's the amount of life in your lovers?"

"Now that is a reference I have not heard in generations." Gail says pertly, "You are informed for a youngling.

She picks up the pace a bit, keeping her destination firmly in mind. "Would you spare a moment to assist me in buying a new phone my dear?" Perdita gets INVITED.

"'It's not the men in my life that count, it's the life in my men', I think. Nice to meet you, Gail." Perdita's smile is anything but strained, she looks absolutely care free. "She also said," and this is done in a surprisingly good impression of Mae West's voice, "'When women go wrong, men go right after them.' and 'a dame that knows the ropes isn't likely to get tied up'." she switches back to her own voice, with a smile, "She was one of my role models, growing up... and I would love to assist you, the company seems wonderful."

"I've always liked her snappy comebacks," Ravn agrees, grinning. "Her and W. C. Fields, both masters of their time. Besides, what's not to like about a woman who knows exactly what she wants, lets you know what it is, and leaves it up to you to take the offer or keep moving? At least you don't have to try to be a mind reader."

He falls into stride; apparently he decided to take the offer of being made to help shop for cell phones. There's an audience for everything.

Ah look, the doorway to the electronics shop. It has those nice electronic doors - but also handles, because that stuff breaks. Regularly. The doors swwooooosh open and there is room for the three of them to enter shoulder to shoulder.

A VERY friendly man sweeps up, beaming, and his eyes flick between the three of them, and somehow decides they're all one happy family. "Are you looking for something interesting today? Can I get your name?"

Gail gives hers and it is entered on an ipad. Then he gestures at the store. "Feel free to browse till one of our associates can come help you!"

Guys, he's way too chipper for someone working in a soul crushing job of customer service.

"Based on experience, plenty of men seem to take issue with it." Perdita tells Ravn with a quirked eyebrow... and then they're in the shop and there's an alarmingly cheerful man. Perdita doesn't even bother to hide her unease with the man, glancing over at the tall man as if to ask 'is he for real?' without actually asking it. "Thank you..."

"So... what sort of phone are you looking for?"

"High as a kite, or demon from retail Hell." Ravn keeps his voice down but looks at the man as if he kind of expects him to offer up one of those grins that go on until you realise their mouth is far too wide and their teeth would make a great white shark sniffle with envy. He dismisses whatever quick repartee he had to Perdita's quip about 'plenty of men' -- they can banter on, later.

A quick glance over the shoulder, expecting those whoosh-whoosh doors to suddenly slam shut. Another glance up at the light armatures; expecting them to fall. Once you've seen people die in either -- messily -- you develop unfortunate twitches.

So far things are just... normal. Alarmingly cheerful guy is just alarmingly cheerful. He's also off to check on someone else, leaving the trio to browse. She Humphs at his back and then steps meaningfully forward. So many little black squares arrayed everywhere.

"I simply need something that my daughters can call and I can reply back with. Why they cannot call the house phone and leave a message," she shakes her head at the paranoia of her spawn.

The little black squares glitter prettily before them. SO attractive. THEY WANT TO BE BOUGHT. Take me home! No take Me! Are they talking, or is it just personification of the pose-er?

Meanwhile, Perdita looks mostly fine, though... a little uncomfortable in the retail store. Looking at the man, she's imagining what his life must be like... and shakes her head slightly. "Well, they have very simple flip phones, those are similar to a house phone, after all, and you can snap it shut dramatically if you want to hang up on your girls. They also tend to be pretty sturdy. I had one survive a five story fall... but they can't play games and the pictures they take tend to be low quality, if you decide you want that."

"Mine's an early model smartphone," Ravn agrees, still keeping an eye on the surroundings (and asking himself why he's finding that new Samsung there so oddly attractive). "It claims it can play games and do anything a modern phone can, but the truth of it is that it's barely got enough memory to run a web browser. Which is fine by me since I don't actually use it for anything much but talking and sending texts."

The sleek little iPhone does have a nice look to it too. One that would go well with his turtleneck -- people already tease him that he's impersonating Steve Jobs, maybe he should get in on the legacy?

Hot damnit, Ravn, you don't need a fancy electronic toy. Don't own a cell phone that you'd cry to lose if it got stolen. Fixed address and all, you're still someone who can be gone in 20 minutes at heart.

Those phones there keep enticing the trio - shiny, and beautiful, and so USEFUL. Are they sure they don't need the newest iphone? Think of everything they can DO for them. Ravn is most successful at turning away from the sparklies and towards what Perdita had pointed to - a row of sad flip-phones tucked over in a corner like they are the Cinderella's of the store. They do all turn eventually, and head over to that corner.

Gail reaches out a hand and pokes at one of them as if it might bite her. And it does flutter, a little, but it's possible she just nudged the table. "I have no need of games young lady, or of the ~internet~. Being able to slam down the receiver is such a perk. When Kerian from the school board calls it is sometimes for the best."

The phones get a second look from Perdita. Wouldn't it be a nice treat to get the newest iPhone? Maybe she could get one for Garrett, too, maybe there's some sort of deal... And then she shakes her head and nods to Gail, "I have a iPhone for some things, but if I'm going to be out and about a lot, I carry a flip phone because they're not going to break easily..." the fact that it's a burner phone isn't important, right? Nobody needs to know Dita regularly buys cheap burner phones, only to destroy them when she's done. She has a lot to answer to with the Cellphone Gods.

Ravn ought to buy burner phones and he knows it. During his first months in town he was pretty careful. Now? There are logs on his phone, of text conversations, discussing human trafficking and mob hits. With the mob hitmen. Because that's just how things roll here -- in the city where the Veil effectively seems to clamp down on anything inconvenient. And as large-scale FBI investigations of local mob affairs would be inconvenient -- yeah, it's apparently not an issue.

Sometimes he tells himself he must be getting sloppy. Now is one of those times. Because that really is a very cute little iPhone. It's almost wiggling its little casing at him.

It's cord is even cute Ravn, don't you want it? It's just this beautiful shade of burnished silver. IT would look AMAZING next to all that black. Wiggle. Wiggle.

Oh but the other devices are inching in - or are they? When they turn and actually look RIGHT at them, they haven't moved at all. That TABLET there, it just gives off vibes of WiFi. VIBES. It'll never let you drop.

Gail wrinkles her nose at the devices and stomps her cane down on the ground. A small spark comes from the contact. "Now be nice," yes, she is making noises at the phones.

"... Ravn?" Perdita asks softly, looking around slightly. "Isn't this store a little... nice and new... for Gray Harbor?" she keeps her voice light, but she's looking around with newfound suspicion. Sometimes, being a little paranoid is a Good Thing.

She wants to take a step toward the exit, but she also doesn't want to abandon the nice older lady...

"I don't remember stepping in here before, and I also have a very strange urge to buy half a dozen phones I'd never need," Ravn murmurs. "I'm not a technophobe exactly but when you travel as light as I usually do, you don't really pick up a lot of gadgets. I didn't buy a laptop until I actually decided to stay here -- because reading student essays on a cell phone is honestly quite painful."

He glances back towards the door. And then he glances towards Gail. "I'll see if I can find something to block the door," he murmurs. "You see if you can steer Oak Avenue's grandma out of here?"

Gail HEARS THAT, She shoots Perdita and Ravn an amused look. "It really is rude to enter a store and not buy anything." She announces that brightly. She IS going to buy something. She turns and examines the room.

This is when the promised associate appears at their elbow. "Oh, I see you are looking at the latest Google Pixle XXXX. Now, you'll love this little feature. Hold it up, and it'll make a copy of your soul!" He sounds just as chipper as the first man as he holds up the phone, selfie style.

"Miss Gail, we really need to get out of here, this place isn't-" aaaand then there's another creepy associate. "Do... do you guys have an espresso machine or something?"

As the phone is held up selfie style, Perdita's suddenly balanced effortlessly on one heel, kicking out at the man's hand with every bit of meager martial skill she has, which isn't much. Perdita's a lover, not a fighter, but she's not about to let this dude steal Gail's soul, or make copies of it, or even chew on it.

Foot goes up, hand goes up, cell phone goes up -- and is caught and pocketed by Gray Harbor's politest pick pocket who is probably also Gray Harbor's most skilled pick pocket. It's not so much that he wants this thing -- it's more that there are people in this town with the ability to read objects and tell him what the hell is going on here. And if that thing can really do what it says on the tin? There are uses for this.

Folklorist knows that native populations worldwide have believed that a photograph will ensnare a soul. Folklorist wants to know if it will do the same to a dolorphage. Thief wants a new toy. Yoink.

That poor associate's hand gets the whacked by that heel and he brings it to his mouth and SUCKS on it. So destroyed. "Now young lady," Gail exclaims, coming forward to imperiously look at the associate's hand. "That's no way to be polite. Let's see... how about that?" She points at what looks like a beautiful popsocket of nice silvery hew. Cash - yes, Granny pays in cash always. Live in Gray Harbor long enough and you just don't trust the cards. She hands it to him before sliding it into his pocket. "Come dears," Gail exclaims, "Let's be going~"

Man, Perdita's skirt looked cool while she was kicking, but damn, did she show a lot of leg doing it.

"I'm polite when Retail Therapy Demons aren't trying to steal the souls of people I'm with." Perdita tells Gail, before glancing back at Ravn, because she didn't hear the phone drop. "He wasn't joking. We've... wandered somewhere we shouldn't be. And we should leave, now, I think. Thank you for having us in your store. I apologize for hurting your hand."

Perdita looks like she's about to lift Gail, put her under her arm and carry her out in a second.

Don't tell Ravn twice. Also, don't tell him to pay for that phone -- what phone? There is no phone. Some mentalist is going to be looking at this phone later. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth; if this thing can trap souls, really, for realsies? He has uses for it. If it can copy souls, as is what the fellow actually said, it might end up on the bottom of Gray Pond.

It's full of bodies, sure. They can probably squeeze a cell phone in there too.

He quickly moves towards the whoosh whoosh doors, hoping that if they do instantly close -- as he half or more suspects -- he will be able to knock over a display of games in their cartridges, and block them that way, securing their exit.

The dream seems to have what it wants from them. As they approach the doorway it's only those shiny phones along the side that keep calling. The associates stay BACK. Apparently either the kick or Perdy's leg was too much for them. The phones keep calin,g "But I'm shiny!" "But you'll never be lonely!" "Never be bored!" well - as long as one of them takes the phone with them.

But they walk confidently towards the door it WOOOSHES open just as it should to allow the three of them out.

"Now that was fun." Gail says, like a schoolgirl who has just had an adventure. She pats her pocket and pulls out... a piece of trash. It looks like a receipt of some kind, and she nods firmly once. Yeah, that checks.

There's one last guilty look from Perdita to the associate. She strongly dislikes violence, even in self defense... unless it's being done to Eddie. Then she revels in it. Somehow, this soul stealer still ranks higher than Eddie.

"Your sense of fun is almost as warped as mine, then." Dita tells the woman, once again catching her skirt before it makes her immodest in public. Normal, sensible people wouldn't wear light weight silk in nearly-winter weather, but Perdita has never been accused of being normal... or sensible. "What the hell just happened?" she asks, laughing slightly.

"Detour to the Other Side," the folklorist replies. "Probably just trawling for random suckers to take a bargain like that. Nothing targeted at any of us as such, just seeing an opportunity. Bet you that if we'd gone looking for the perfect melon, we'd have found the greengrocer from Hell."

He glances back. And then dips into a pocket to see if that phone still exists or has turned into a lump of charcoal. He's not really sure which to expect.

Gail reaches out and pats Perdita's shoulder briefly. "Yes, you get use to it eventually. Just give yourself a bit of time and these things will become routine." She considers the street before and nods firmly once. "My friend Jude and I use to have a tradition of going out for ice cream after. You'll let me buy a strapping young lady and man a scoop as a favor, won't you?"

"I already have the perfect melons at home." Dita tells Ravn, with a completely straight face. Either she's making a joke about the Elvira costume, or her new houseguest packs a pair of perfect pecs.

"Who am I to argue with tradition. Care to join two beautiful women for ice cream, Ravn?" Perdita tilts her head slightly, smiling warmly.

Ravn laughs and holds up the crinkled, blackened scrap of cardboard in his hand. "See? All show and flim-flam. These things were never real."

He flicks it over a shoulder and then nods. "Let's go dazzle Sweet Retreats and eat all the ice cream. Recommend avoiding the grape flavour though -- nine out of ten sidhe ladies told me it was not acceptable."

He leads an interesting life.