mothmansplaining | [IC INBOX

[ There's a clearing of the throat before a voice begins, someone unfamiliar with a crisp English accent. There is also a soft rasp in the background.]

Good afternoon.

[ He's settled on 'afternoon' as his all-purpose general greeting because who the hell knows what time it is at any point and time around here. ]

My name is Jonathan Sims. I've recently arrived to the ship as a warden and I was given your name, or part of your name, by a creature calling himself Bill Cipher that identified you as his 'priest' on board. He also identified me as... well, I'll get to that.

I would like to meet with you and discuss some things that I observed while we were talking as well as come to an understanding of how such things might... function given our current location.

At your earliest convenience, of course.

He said I was his what?!

[From the surprise -- and no small amount of outrage -- in Ford's voice, it's clear Ford wasn't informed of this "priest" arrangement.]

[ There is a short pause as he considers how to answer that. Finally, he decides on-]

Quite.

We can continue on here or we can, if you would prefer, meet in person. I would be fine hosting as I've a cabin that resembles my flat or we can go to a neutral location such as the library or the dining hall. Whatever you're most comfortable with.

Yes. Yes, I think we had better discuss this in person. And in private. Where's your cabin, Mr. ...Sims, wasn't it?

205.

I don't suppose you take tea?

Occasionally. Given the nature of what we're about to discuss, I think we both could use it.

I've just put the kettle on. See you soon.

[A few minutes later, there's a quick, businesslike rap at the door of 205.]

[ Jon comes to the door shortly after the knock; he's rather average all around, with grey in the blond hair and a number of strange circular scars on his face in different spots. His right hand, which is holding the door, is almost entirely made of burn scars and looks almost as if it's been melted a bit, though the movement makes it clear that it's largely healed. When he sees Stan, he dips his head and steps back to welcome him in. ]

Thank you for coming.

[Unusual scars, for sure, but Ford doesn't comment. He steps inside with a sigh, his own six-fingered hands still in his coat pockets.]

I'm just here to set the record straight about whatever Bill's told you. Make sure that door's closed and locked. There are a few ways to keep him from watching us, and the access filters on cabins are one of them.

[ Jon certainly does that, and once it's done, he makes his way over to the small kitchen to continue his preparations for tea.

Ford might notice two very important things: the first is that there do not appear to be any photographs in the small flat. None. The other is that there is a paperback book on the kitchen table near where he's standing that has had the eyes cut out of the picture on the cover.

Jon gestured to it with his chin.]

I'm not sure if he works anything like what I'm used to, but my predecessor appears to have used this method to hide her activities from certain entities and I followed suit when it seemed... prudent.

Thankfully, it appears to be in place for this 'version' of my home.

[ The kettle is close but not yet boiling which is why he takes the time to walk over and pull something off the table, a small ash tray that has clearly been used not long ago. Then he looks to Stan.]

Please, take a seat.

[ He replaces the ashtray with a small plate of store-bought biscuits.]

[Ford notices the book. It has a kind of paranoid-verging-on-crazy look to it, which is very familiar and understandable and does not shake his impression of Jon's sanity at all.

He sits where he's directed, placing his hands on his knees. Ford lets out a slow, heavy breath.]

The access filter should be enough, for now.

[ 'Paranoid-vergin-on-crazy' is exactly what he'd thought when he'd first seen Gertrude's apartment. Then he'd learned differently. ]

Hopefully. I'm not particularly keen on trusting any entity or representative thereof too far.

[ To be fair, his boss actually might give the Admiral a run for his money in the 'people who should never be allowed to own a 'Best Boss' mug' competition.

Regardless, what he puts down next is a tape recorder, one of many he's brought with him. ~~Not to mention his tendency to apparently generate them out of nowhere~~. He presses 'play' and there's the soft shuffle of footsteps and an opening door before the entire encounter plays out. As the footsteps sound- ]

I thought you might want to hear the entire conversation.

[Ford's face is an open book through the entire thing. Surprise, confusion, furrowed-brow consideration -- and, of course, a flush of anger and embarrassment at discussion of his freakish birth defect. His six-fingered hands close into fists on his knees at that, but he successfully resists the impulse, ingrained from childhood, to hide them.

When it ends, Ford's first question to Jon is asked with disbelief and immediate, incredulous shock.]

There are more like him?!

Actually [ because he has actually been considering this, comparing matters between what he knows, how Bill has behaved and what people have said about him, and some of the things that he saw in Hilda's books and a few tomes in the library-] the more I've come to learn about him and about the different manners in which such cosmologies play out, I'd say it's more of a matter of convergent evolution.

He shares certain similarities to my patron. But there are also, I believe, great differences.

[ He tilts his head tiredly before sucking in a breath and letting it out.]

That said, when you're halfway down something's gullet, there's only so much concern one should have with the exact shape and size of the molars.

[ He rewinds and, with almost eerie precision, starts the player back on the section about the 'rustic' preparations.]

There was some manner of circle underneath the varnish. And I'm very interested to know if you know anything about what he might be up to.

[Well. The fact that there are things out there that are like Bill but also not like him....it is slightly comforting, but mostly not.

But the question about the circle...Ford blinks and rubs his chin.]

Hm. No, I'm afraid I don't. He can't cast magic that way -- usually, what he does is more...direct. The Admiral's taken that ability away, of course, so I can't imagine why he'd be drawing ritual circles in nail polish.

...though it is possible...

...can you think of any reason it might annoy you to catch him doing it? Does it get under your skin at all? Bother you? Anything?

It was my first meeting with him,[ he points out, ] and pretty much everything he does gets under my skin, but the circle was the least of my irritation.

[ He works on the tea for a moment before he looks over at Ford.]

If you could tell me how you like your tea...

Oh, just black is fine.

[It's said like an afterthought. Ford's mind is turning over. What could Bill have been doing drawing circles in nail polish?]

What you should understand about Bill is, everything he does, he does for a reason. Sometimes, that reason is only to get a rise out of you because he thinks it's funny. Other times, it's not as simple. Maybe he was expecting you to tell me about it so that I'd wonder what he was up to. I wouldn't put it past him.

Nor would I. However, it's just as likely that, as he was chanced upon, he decided to forge along in the hopes we would assume just that.

[ He's talked to Bill a few times now, and he's worked under Elias Bouchard. Xanatos Gambit was the kind of word you tried not to think in order to keep from losing hope around the Institute.]

Do you think it would be worth the trouble to recover the circle and take a look?

[That's also very possible, Ford has to admit. He sighs.]

Unlikely. If it was important enough that Bill doesn't want us to know about it, there won't be anything left to find.

Then I don't suppose you'd have some idea where else he might be putting circles?

[ Ford has been here longer and might know better spots or have some idea how such things work in his world to guestimate based on location. At least, that's what he's thinking.]

[Ford gives an unhelpful shrug.]

Not unless I knew the kind of magic he was using. Setting up a barrier would require very different positioning than a spell to raise the dead, for instance. If only there were a way to tell what sort of spell he was trying to cast.

--ah! Wait a minute, of course there is!

[Ford grins and pulls a small scanner out of his pocket. It looks like the Ghostbusters props department got hold of a handheld barcode scanner.]

This can detect all kinds of energy, including most forms of magic. If Bill was doing a spell and there's any residue left in the area, this device will detect it.

[ Jon looks at that monitor for a moment, frowning as he considers the possible ramifications.]

Will... that is, I may set that off, to be honest. Should I let you go out and do your readings on your own?

No, no, that won't be necessary. This device can distinguish a phenomenon's universe of origin. Unless he's doing magic from your world -- which is unlikely, if your theory about convergent evolution is correct -- it should be able to tell the difference between whatever magic Bill was working and any you're giving off.

[ He takes a moment to look at the tea he's just put out, and frowns.]

...do you think we ought to take those readings right now, or should we finish up here?

[ Look, he's rather driven, but, he had gone to the trouble.]

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audio -> actionspam, if that works for you!

does!

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