Very, very nice, Birdy! I love Jason's character. And he's so very smooth!
Disappointed, at her wanting to tag along, or that she basically covered herself up? 
Thumbs up Birdy! A very nice piece! Now where's the rest? 
@FloatingFatMan
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
You want more? Well, maybe, if I get time.
Disclaimer: The above may be humerous, or at least may be an attempt at humour. Try reading it that way.
Posts are OOC unless noted to be IC, or in an IC thread.
Do I actually need to add some comment about constructive criticism being happily received?
Disclaimer: The above may be humerous, or at least may be an attempt at humour. Try reading it that way.
Posts are OOC unless noted to be IC, or in an IC thread.
[ QUOTE ]
Do I actually need to add some comment about constructive criticism being happily received?
[/ QUOTE ]
Yup
@ShadowGhost & @Ghostie
The Grav Mistress, Mistress of Gravity
If you have nothing useful to say, you have two choices: Say something useless or stay quiet.
I did on my story a page or so back, and I never got much *sniff* Asking therefor has no real reason, so there.
(( The story below gives some of the events of Jason Caine's recent trip to London in search of information for a plot developed by Wordmaker. It is, however, as much a piece of personal plot as anything else and it helps to know that Jason lost his girlfriend a short while ago. ))
Good morning, Mister Caine. The librarian smiled as he showed her his pass. Jason smiled back, his eyes flicking over her nametag. Welcome to the British Library. If I can be of any assistance while youre here
Thats fine Samantha, Ive been here before. He smiled again and walked off across the reading room floor, heading for a small door that very few people ever used. It was marked Admittance by Appointment Only, and Jason opened it without thinking, passing through into a darkened staircase that lead down. He took the steps calmly, marching down six flights until he came to a second door bearing the words Restricted Collection 4 in faded letters. He opened it and passed in.
Jameson had not changed one bit. He looked up from his newspaper and nodded politely. Mister Caine. It is a pleasure to remake your acquaintance. Is there something specific you are looking for?
Im researching a demon, name of Orin, and a group sacrificed to him. The Defiled.
Jameson nodded. Try section 413, he paused, apparently thinking, and you may wish to check section thirteen.
Thirteen? Really? That bad. Jason got a nod in reply. Okay, let me in.
There were none of your modern buzzers or electronic locks, Jameson stood up and took a large key from his belt. He unlocked the heavily barred door and opened it. Jason passed through and Jameson locked the door behind him. Ahead lay rank after rank of heavy, wooden shelves stacked with books, manuscripts, even a few clay tablets. Restricted Collection Four held books on magic, some of them dangerous enough that they were chained to the shelves for the protection of the reader. Some people who were admitted wondered at the apparently lax security. Jason had known Jameson since the collection was founded in 1540, long before it had been moved to its current location, and was well aware of his capabilities.
Jason passed on into the room, looking for section 413.
***
Did you find what you were looking for, Mister Caine? Jameson unlocked the door to allow Jason out. He had been in there for five hours, but showed no sign of fatigue.
Yes and no. There were some interesting references. I need to visit the Williamson Collection. Ill go there tomorrow. Jason headed toward the door to the stairs.
Take time to see Justina as well, Mister Caine, Jameson advised, and check the collection at the Bellington Club while youre there.
Jason turned and nodded. Always helpful, Jameson.
Always a pleasure, Mister Caine. Jameson didnt smile, but watched Jason leave the room. Jason had never seen Jameson smile once.
The reading room was emptying. It was after five on a Friday and even the dedicated readers were packing to leave. At the desk, Samantha was putting on her coat, covering up the white silk shirt and mid-length green skirt with a thick, black coat. He couldnt blame her, it was dark outside and the temperature was probably heading towards freezing. He looked at her appraisingly. She was his height, very slim, but with an ample chest and long legs. He shrugged briefly and walked up to the desk. He opened his mouth before he could change his mind. Samantha?
She looked around, and smiled. Mister Caine. How did your research go?
Not too badly. I have some other places to go tomorrow. Would you like a drink?
Um yes, she looked a little startled, but smiled brightly. He smiled back and lead the way out onto the street.
He hailed a taxi and requested 20 Ham Yard. They drove down Regent Street, full of Christmas shoppers largely ignoring the display of lights overhead, discussing the Library and her work there. By the time they were swinging through Soho the lights had changed to proclamations of Girls, Girls, Girls and Samantha giggled as they passed one woman dressed in far too little for the climate sitting in a doorway. At the end of Ham Yard, the taxi pulled over and Jason paid the driver.
The front door of the Bellington Club was unimpressive. That was the whole point. Only a small brass plaque indicated that the building was anything other than a private house, if a very large one. Jason opened the door and walked in, holding it open for Samantha. A young woman dressed in a Victorian maids uniform appeared apparently from nowhere to take their coats. Your bag arrived from the airport, Mister Caine, she said, I took it up to room twenty-four.
Thanks, Jenny. Would you arrange access to the Clubs collection for me? Tomorrow, around six oclock?
Of course, Mister Caine. She turned and walked through a section of panelling which swung closed behind her leaving no sign that there was a door. Jason opened a second door and walked through into a panelled atrium.
Two attendants looked up from their desks as Jason and Samantha entered. Both nodded politely and returned to their work, apparently satisfied that Jason needed no assistance. Jason continued on to another panelled door and opened it, indicating that Samantha should lead the way. The bar was respectably genteel, just as Samantha had expected. She was currently having trouble reconciling the place against the man she had arrived with. What was a young man like Jason Caine doing in a gentlemans club straight out of the pre-war years? They obviously knew him, the barman was already reaching for a bottle as Jason entered behind her.
What would you like? Jason asked her, heading for a small booth near the back of the room.
A couple of other patrons looked up from their card games or newspapers as she followed him. One older man smiled in a leering sort of way and then quickly turned back to his cards. Gin and tonic? she responded, sitting at the seat across from him. Jason nodded to the barman, saying nothing, but she noticed the man reaching behind him for a gin bottle. This place doesnt seem like you, she said.
He smiled. A little old for me? Im older than I look. The barman arrived, carrying a tray with two drinks on it. He placed them on the table, nodded to Jason, and smiled at Samantha. Her eyes widened and, as the barman walked away, Jason grinned again. Barker is a rather odd man, but an excellent barman.
H-his teeth
Hes not entirely human. His mother was a werewolf, I believe. He has exceptional hearing. His voice was matter-of-fact, as if describing how to get back to St Pancras on the bus.
She blinked a couple of times and took slightly too large a sip from her gin. When the coughing subsided, she said, Ive seen heroes and one villain, of course. Im just not used to having weird things under my nose.
The Bellington Club is a place where weird things go to be with other weird things, Sam. Theres been something like it in London under similar names since 1680.
Are you a weird thing, Jason? She looked into his eyes. She had attractive, green eyes, he found himself looking rather too closely at them.
I was one of the founder members, he finally replied.
That would make you over four-hundred and twenty-five years old. Somehow her voice seemed calmer than might be expected.
Im a little older. Lets just say there isnt a lot of history I didnt get to see.
She smirked slightly, her expression something like that of a child discovering a very interesting bug in the garden. Im sure you must get this a lot, but Ive never met a hero before.
He laughed, and she prodded him to tell her stories of his past. Her interest in the thousands of years of his life seemed unbounded and he was unsurprised to discover that she had studied history at Cambridge to Doctorate level. Her speciality had been the fifth century and they spent hours going over the difference between the reality of the time and what she had discovered in her research.
Its the magic, she said We never take into account the magic. It must have made a lot of difference back then.
He nodded. I dont think it has had such an effect on general society since then. Even now its not like everyone knows a magician who lives nearby. Magic has become something the bad guys use to most people. The heroes who use magic are almost treated as something else. Back then, magic had too much influence on everyday life.
Too much? She took a sip of her fifth gin. Her speech was slightly slurred, though she had not noticed yet.
Imagine a life where you were constantly performing little rituals to stave off evil spells. Your cattle might suddenly grow sick for no reason and you had to find something to pay the local witch to cure them. Even mundane things start to be explained by magical influence, everyone gets paranoid that everything is a curse. Strangers are murdered lest they bring the evil eye upon the village. It was a lousy time to be alive. Without the magic it would just have been dull.
Youre a fascinating man, Jason Caine. She said, and hiccupped. She had a pretty blush, which emphasised the flush from the alcohol.
They serve an excellent breakfast in the restaurant, he said.
She giggled. Are you propositioning me, Mister Caine?
Smiling, he replied, Yes, I am.
Then I accept.
***
Jason opened his eyes. It was eight in the morning, the thin light of dawn was sneaking in around the curtains. He slipped out from under the bedclothes and moved to one of the lounge chairs near the window, retrieving a PDA from his jacket in passing. He spent several minutes entering notes into an encrypted notepad application before looking over at the bed and the young woman lying in it.
Her eyes opened and she looked over at him. Smiling, she sat up, the sheets falling to her waist. Have you been awake long?
A little while. He closed the notepad and put the PDA aside. I was making notes. I have a few places to go today.
Could I tag along? She changed position, lifting her knees and wrapping her arms around them. He was slightly disappointed.
Itll be boring, and youll see some more weird things.
I think I can cope. What is it youre doing in London, Jason?
He stood up and walked around the bed so that he could stand beside her. His fingers traced the line of her jaw to her ear and she shivered. Moving on, he said and bent down to kiss her.
Disclaimer: The above may be humerous, or at least may be an attempt at humour. Try reading it that way.
Posts are OOC unless noted to be IC, or in an IC thread.