(Under Control) To the Point

[West]

What's a new Claviger to do with herself?

Stay in form, and arm oneself, of course. With this in mind, and killing two birds with one stone, Coco did her homework and found Sacramento Saber Fencing, LLC. Like most of it's sort, it's mostly a specialized gymnasium. The majority of the students are young, but there are a few older ones. Even if she can't see their faces, she can tell by the stiff movements of the white suits.

Yells of exertion and bells echo through the building. Several galleries are in use, as well as open spaces where students practice.

Standing there, taking it in, she notices a long counter. It's probably an all-purpose counter, but it's set atop a glass case with various fencing equipment displayed within.

There's a young man at the counter. At least, she thinks that's what he might be. Rising from the toggle coat is a face which is painted white, and a black bowler hat. He's speaking earnestly with an older man wearing a shirt emblazoned with Sac Saber's logo.

"Yes, please. Five. When can I have them? Now?"

[Coco]

Coco nodded, eyes assessing the place. It looked like a good salle d'armes. Not that Coco knew french, but she'd heard the term somewhere before and she loved the sound of it (though now that she thought about it, the fact that she couldn't remember exactly where bothered her) . Fencing Club, Fencing Hall, Fencing Gymnasium: they all lacked a certain panache. The first two were just boring, and the third made Fencing sound like merely an exercise, which was insulting. Fencing wasn't just a sport, or an exercise. It was a centuries old form of combat, and it was also complex and expressive enough to be an art. Thankfully this particular salle d'armes didn't disparage itself with any of those three names but the acronym at the end did detract from an otherwise stylish name. Sort of like the face paint on the young man at the counter. The white, pallid make-up practically made his hat a joke. Some people just took to playing their social roles a bit too far. He was probably one of them, though what role he thought he was playing Coco couldn't guess at.

Intrigued by the exchange at the counter, and deciding she'd spent enough time standing in the doorway, the fairest-wasp walked over by the toggle-coat clad young man and feigned peering into the glass case beneath the counter. She had all the equipment she'd need in the sports bag over her shoulder, but no one else knew that.

[West]

The young man takes a half step to the side, giving Coco some room. A cursory glance is directed her way, and then it lengthens beyond cursory. Eyes move upward, tracing her antennae, and then focus on her own faceted eyes. His own are a swirling mix of gold and white. Now that he's facing her, she can see the white face paint is that of a mime. His hand rests over a long thin blade in the case, tapping the counter top.

"No, no, no." His words are soft, under his breath.

"Hey, it can wait, no bigs," he says turning back to the employee. In a fraction of a second, the worry Coco saw is gone, replaced by his original pleasant boredom.

He turns away from the man. The hand that was resting on the counter moves toward Coco as if to take her arm, but stops shy. Each long finger has an extra digit.

"We need to go. Please. Trust me. You're not safe... now."

The words are low and urgent, and the boredom is gone again. It's replaced by a look of genuine worry, and something else. Maybe... guilt?

[Coco]

As their eyes met Coco felt herself go still, any glib comments about his hat slipping away in that moment of shock. She studied his face curiously while the mime spoke to the man behind the counter and her eyes followed the motion of his hand when it moved towards her. Any doubts about whether he was wearing incredibly believable contacts disappeared when she saw his fingers. This mime was like her. He was one of the Lost. His words sent a bolt of apprehension down her spine and she remained frozen for another second. She didn't feel his Wyrd bound to the same Oath that she was, and that troubled her almost as much as his claims of danger. Without an oath of fidelity to the Freehold, and thus by extension her, she knew she couldn't trust his words. Not completely anyway. But, being the only one around, and being one who was oathbound to protect, she felt it was now her responsibility to vet him. If he was an ally who hadn't gotten a chance to pledge yet, she would help him. If this was a trick and a trap, it was her responsibility to foil it. Either way, she'd want to play along for now.

So, that mental train of thought having run its course, she nodded and started walking towards the exit. "Where exactly are you planning on going? And why exactly am I not safe here?" she asked, her voice quiet yet urgent.

[West]

The long fingers dip into a coat pocket, and produce a ball cap. A Nike Dri-Fit in steel blue, with an orange swoosh.

"Put this on, keep your head down," he explains, holding it the cap out to her with one hand while the other swings the door open.

"Not here. Anywhere. Because, you know, we're... us. And they're already on to me, so I've been avoiding everyone." The words spill out in a haphazard fashion. Those golden-white eyes move constantly over their surroundings. "Can't shake 'em. Got a cell? Take the battery out. Now. Don't look at traffic lights, or ATMs. Don't look up. Took me a while to figure it out -- facial recognition and cell phone GPS'."

"Fuck!"

The expletive comes out laced with rue more than anger.

"Oh. And I'm N... Neil."

[Coco]

"That will be somewhat difficult," Coco replied as they stepped onto the sidewalk. She looked distastefully at the cap but she took it anyway, deciding it wasn't worth an argument. Then carefully placing the back of the cap against her head she slowly lowered the bill so that it gently pushed her antennae down. It was very uncomfortable, but not painful for now. She shot the mime a surprised look when he mentioned avoiding people and electronic spy tactics.

"Well, if you're avoiding everyone else, I suppose I should feel rather special." She rifled through a side pocket on her sports bag and took out her cell phone, popping the battery out as requested and then zipped the battery and phone back inside the pocket.

Her eyebrows lifted when he mentioned his name. "It's a pleasure Neil. Especially if you do turn out to be a life saver. I'm Coco," she said, holding out a hand to the mime.

Sorry. Posted under the wrong account. Should have been Coco.

[West]

The long fingers gently flexed as he tried to assemble the thoughts into something manageable. He'd never been the brightest bulb on the marquee, and summarizing something you'd learned in bits and pieces into a few sentences... well.

He turned down a side street, away from an intersection with traffic lights.

"Hi."

Long fingers gave her hand a gentle shake. He hadn't touched her before, because, you know. That could set someone off. You never knew. Never knew what had happened. His eyes took in the antennae and he gave an ouch expression of sympathy. He hadn't thought that through. In another time or place, Neil might have had something sly to reply to her comment about meeting him being a pleasure. Had she known him better, it would be a mark of the seriousness of the situation that he didn't.

Or maybe she was just lucky she didn't have a tail.

"Well, I was. Avoiding them. I think they check out everyone, you know, that I talk to... but it's only dangerous for us. To be checked out. Some others, too, not sure," he rambled. Planning wasn't his forte. "Not sure, what to do about you, because I've got to be somewhere. Soon. They have photographers, and I spotted one."

He paused.

"I was going to take care of him."

The pause wasn't any hint of remorse or reluctance at the act -- just the fact that everyone always seemed to have a hissy whenever he did it.

[Coco]

"Take care of him? As in with inarguable finality?" Coco asked slowly, studying Neil. "And you're taking care of him because he works for them? Do you mean the Them that lurks beyond the hedge or is this a different them?"

"If it is because of those beyond the hedge, you don't have to do anything with me. I'm not a wilting daisy. I can help you. I'm invested in helping people like us, and if this photographer is dangerous to people like us then I should be a part of this." She stopped talking and waited to see how he'd respond. If this photographer was an agent of the Gentry she wouldn't be adverse to helping get rid of him. It was true that Claviger's were mainly charged with being reactionary when guarding Spring but nothing specifically said she couldn't be more proactive in her duties.

[West]

Inarguable fatality.

The mimes lips moved slightly as he silently repeated the words. That was new. He'd heard the "extreme prejudice" thing, but never that. It was kind of funny, though, because those were all really long ways to say 'take care of'. He was pretty much the opposite: the only time he got wordy was with warnings. Generally, the less he said, the more lethal his intent.

"Well, you're my kind of girl," he answered with a grin. His brows arched elegantly, and the paint highlighting them and his lips exaggerated the expression.

Well, she wasn't, really. He was more of a... fur and tail rather than facets and 'tennae kind of guy.

"Ummmm, and... I'm not reaaaaallly sure which 'them'," he admitted. "I think so, but he's followed some people I don't know. Not... us. That's how I know where he'll be."

As they walked, he studiously steered them around anything that might have a camera, keeping his head low. If there were toggle coat recognition... well, he'd be fucked.

"So you can handle yourself?"

There was more just curiosity in the question. There was speculation.

[Coco]

So it might not be Them them. That could be problematic, but really, who else could it be? They worked in tangled, insidious webs and This certainly sounded like Them. If it wasn't, well, Coco was willing to gamble with the consequences of being wrong.

She scoffed at Neil's question. "One on one, I'm pretty sure I can beat anything breathing. If there's more than one, that just makes it more exciting. Not that I rush into conflict, but if something untoward happens I'll be ready," she said, patting her bag. She'd brought more than just a practice sword with her. Embracing her new role as a Claviger, Coco wasn't going anywhere unarmed if she had a choice. Her sword cane was sitting under her fencing gear and change of street clothes.

"So tell me what I should do to help."