Crickets and Daz

Cast: date: '27 August 2012'
place: 'Whitechapel Laundromat'
participants: 'Gideon, Ruth, Tucker'
synopsis: 'Gideon goes to the laundromat to ask a favor from Tucker and Ruth.'
log: "The low, rhythmic wub-wub-wub of washing machines going through the spin cycle fills the laundromat, occasionally broken by the rattling of an unbalanced load or the clack of someone's belt that got stuffed into a dryer by accident with the rest of their clothes.\n\nIt's a quiet sort of place, aside from that. A few people are seated on benches, browsing newspapers or - in one case - a dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Grey in the hands of a middle-aged woman. The floor is black and white checkerboard tile, and there's a counter where Tucker can be found.\n\nHe's leaning way back in a chair, one foot braced up to the counter, a small television sitting in front of him with an antenna stretched up, playing something in black and white. It's an antique, clearly. A pair of headphones have been jury-rigged into the wiring, duct tape abounding, and they're stuck on his head. A bag of pork rinds has settled into his lap, and he's absently reaching in to pull one out now and again, tossing it into his mouth and crunching down in absent, automatic movements.\n\nRuth is in the back. It's not hard to figure this out either, because her voice carries a bit, even when pitched somewhat low in that 'on the phone' sort of fashion. \"No, no, we got Persil and Ariel and Surf andwell if you're allergic, just bring your own detergewell I don'twell,\" then she appears in the back room doorway, one hand cupped over the receiver as she mutters, \"Bugger this. Oi, Tucker! We still got Daz? This old bag can't use nothin' else,\" and one would hope that old bag can't hear her around the hand she's still got wrapped around the speaker of the phone.\n\nThere are patterns and rhythms to laundry. The wub-wub-wub as the machines run, the lift and fall of clothes as they tumble around and around, the churning click-clank as quarters are spat out of the change machine. Hell, even the floor is a repeating sequence of black, white, black, white. For someone who sees patterns and consequences spun out in his mind all the time, a place where there are so many that are so simple and predictable is a bit like having a rest.\n\nGideon Parish makes his way into the laundromat and towards the back where Tucker and Ruth are situated. Ruth has just called out her question when Gideon sets a small orange box of Daz detergent on the counter, near Tucker's foot, and a clear plastic bag, taut with air and housing fifteen crickets, beside that. Then, leaning his elbows on the counter, he waits.\n\nWait, is somebody talking to him? Tucker's head lifts up a little, his eyebrows leaping up towards the messy scatter of his hairline as he looks around for a few lost moments before finally turning towards the back. Focusing on Ruth, his hand comes up, pulling the headphones off his head and calling back, \"What? Do we have any\"\n\nOh, hey. A rock of the chair forward, and Tucker's rolling up to his feet, tossing the headphones off to one side. A bright, if tired, smile is flashed to Gideon, the bag of rinds shoved unceremoniously under the counter. There are crumbs on his shirt. He starts to speak, then pauses, \"Uh, we don't clean… crickets, man.\"\n\nDetergent, check. Bag o' crickets - acknowledged. Pale blue eyes flit across Gideon in a brief once-over, then settle on the bag on the counter. \"Oh yeah, looks like we got some in,\" Ruth mutters hurriedly into the phone before disconnecting the call. \"S'alright, it's all sorted,\" she remarks to Tucker, one hand snaking out to pinch the tie of the bag between two fingers and yank it off of the counter. Poor crickets, rattled around inside of that bag as she lowers it to her side, just under the counter. \"Heya Gid,\" is offered up coolly, accompanied by the odd chirp or two from bag.\n\nGideon offers Tucker a nod and a faint smile. \"I wouldn't think so,\" he agrees, \"not if one wanted them to keep their legs.\" But then Ruth is off the phone and pinching the bag of crickets, and further explanation isn't necessary (or, at least, will probably fall on Ruth to provide, now). \"Hello, love,\" he greets the girl with a small half smile. \"Have you got a moment for a quick word?\"\n\n\"No, they really wouldn't do real well during the spin cycle, not to mention the dro\" Oh. As the dark-haired young woman reaches a gloved hand past Tucker to grab the crickets, his eyes widen a bit in that 'oh' sort of expression that suggests everything has just clicked into place. \"Sorry, still not all here, mate,\" he chuckles, one hand coming up to wriggle a finger in his ear, \"Thanks for the deliv.\"\n\nShe has to be doing that on purpose, rattling the bag against her thigh, sending the crickets tumbling back and forth inside. That's just mean. Tucker gets something of a sour look, until realization seems to dawn for him - she lifts her chin just slightly and takes a half-step back. \"Yeah?\" That's to Gideon, then there's a quick glance down; crickets in one gloved hand, phone in the other. \"Yeah, 'sec. Need to hang this up.\" And, well, she'll probably put those crickets somewhere. Ruth heads for the back room, disappears for a second or two, then emerges - sans crickets and phone, making her way back towards Tucker and Gideon.\n\nLife kind of sucks when you're a cricket. If it's not being shaken about in a bag, it's being fed to lizards or snakes or chitonous Touched with severe dietary restrictions. If Gideon is at all bothered by the insect jostling, or even notices it, he doesn't offer any sign. He just waits, still leaning on the counter, as Ruth darts off and then back, again. He looks at her a look moment and then over at Tucker and then back to Ruth, brows lifted. The unspoken question of can we discuss weird stuff in front of this one is writ clear enough on his face.\n\nThe moment of awkward silence as the apparent deliveryman just looks between them isn't broken by Tucker, who just raises his own brows - light brown, just a few shades shy of possibly being ginger - and looks back between them questioningly. One hand comes up, a finger scratching at the five-o-clock (no, that's being generous, call it nine-o-clock) shadow that bristles over his cheek.\n\nRuth's lips purse to a thin line when she meets Gideon's eyes. Her shoulders lift and drop in a twitch of a shrug, and there's another lift of her chin as she cuts her gaze towards Tucker, gloved hands sliding into the front pockets of her hooded jacket. There's a bit of an uncomfortable shift of her weight from foot to foot as she lets this silence draw out while the washers and dryers drone on in the background. Then, she looks back to Gideon and asks, \"What's the word?\" which, apparently, counts as a 'yes' to his unspoken question.\n\nIt'll do, and Gideon glances at Tucker again before be says, to Ruth, \"I'm calling in a favor. Edith's got the bit back between her teeth to get me…\" Public place. Watch euphemisms required, \"… involved, again. I could do without the irritation, quite frankly. I'd consider us squared away if you could direct her attention elsewhere and onto more pressing matters.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Tucker's lips twist into a little bit of a smirk, a hint of humor threaded through his words, \"Edith. I think you're overestimatin' our girl here's ability to distract people, when the ice queen's got her eyes set on something, she's not that easy to dissuade.\" Since there isn't business going on, he reaches down under the counter, paper rustling as he delves a hand into the bag of pork rinds again. As dismissive as he seems, though, he's still got one eye on Gideon.\n\nOh, a favor. Ruth's expression twists with muted displeasure. One hand slips free of her pocket and lifts, she scratches at the side of her neck with gloved fingertips. \"I ain't really all that\" she cuts it short, head tipping towards Tucker when the fellow speaks up. \"S'true.\" is muttered out. Still, she huffs out a breath and adds, \"I'll see if I can do anything. No promises.\" with the sort of weak grin that's probably meant to be encouraging, but falls pretty short.\n\nGideon reaches into his pocket, drawing out a business card that reads I.P. Kazlov Emporium. Benjamin Turner, Proprietor as well as a list of business hours, the address and a phone number. \"There'll be a request out that this fellow gets looked at a bit more closely. Get yourself on the group that's going and see what you can find. Might be Mr. Turner's more interesting than I am.\"\n\nA handful of crisp, yellowish and utterly unhealthy treats are pulled out of the bag as Tucker straightens again, and he juggles them around in the cage of his fingers for a moment before popping one into his mouth. Teeth crunch down on it, and he leans forward to regard the business card thoughtfully, \"Kazlov Emporium, eh?\"\n\nRuth doesn't reach for the card, she slides gloved hands back into the pockets of her hooded jacket and shifts her weight on her feet, lips pursing faintly. \"Any word'a why they want him looked at? What makes him more interesting than you?\" She sucks at her teeth for a moment, then eyes Gideon and adds, \"I'll help, but I'm only doing it 'cos that one thing happened, and you were cool about it.\" whatever THAT means.\n\n\"Well, he's Touched, for a start,\" Gideon replies, \"which puts him at least at equal interest. A Touched collector of oddities and curiosities?\" The blond man shrugs. \"Maybe he collects more than just trinkets. Could be bodies hidden in there or worse. We don't all come back out sane enough to get on.\" He smiles faintly, lifting one hand as if to deflect Ruth's caveats. \"Yes, yes, a favor for a favor, I understand, of course. Oh. And you might want to take that…\" he snaps his fingers, frowning, \"…whatshername. The little bloodhound in the glasses.\"\n\nThe crumbs and residue on Tucker's fingers are licked off slowly, one at a time, including the thumbdid he already eat the entire handful? Yes, yes apparently he did—and then he's giving Gideon a somewhat lazy look. \"You seem to know an awful lot,\" he notes, a brow quirking itself upwards over one storm-blue eye.\n\nRuth tips her head back a bit, looking up towards the overhead lighting for a moment. \"Little bird, this one,\" she asides to Tucker with a nod towards Gideon, rocking her weight back to her heels. \"Hears all kinds've things,\" A breath's blown out as she looks back to Gideon, brows arching just slightly. \"Right then. We'll see what's what, I suppose.\"\n\nGideon offers a smile to Tucker that's all good cheer and guileless blue eyes. One would think he'd practiced the look in front of a mirror, if he wasn't Touched. \"I know what I need to, sir. That's all.\" He looks over at Ruth, offering her a quick wink. \"Thank you.\" His finger taps the business card, but he leaves it on the counter. \"Good morning to you both.\"\n\nThe expression upon Tucker's face is bland, just the hint of a smirk seeming to tug at the corner of his lips, but there's a sharpness to those eyes as he looks back at Gideon for a moment. \"Guess we all do,\" he allows then with a bit've a chuckle, chin lifting up, \"Have a good 'un, mate.\"\n\nRuth pulls a gloved hand free of her pocket and lifts it, two fingers brought to her brow in a mock salute as she nods back at the blond man. \"Keep your nose clean,\" she advises, dropping her her hand back to her side. Then she's turning on her heels and striding towards the back room once again. Perhaps she's going to retrieve that bag of crickets."

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