Spade leans comfortably against his warm Lincoln watching the lazy tides of resonance roil away form the gas station like noxious fumes.

Slowly the pump ticked off twenty dollars and one cent. feeding the dieing machine Spade had enslaved. The Lincoln should have been put out to pasture years ago.

Henry is, at the same moment, parked across the street in his own car, a low-quality rental. He makes it a point to look like he's reading a newspaper, but really he's just there to throw the occasional look Spade's way. He has largely faded from the world's view, merely absorbing the facts around him, planning what was to come.

If the Councilor was to play a part in it, Henry had to know him. From the inside out, from his routine to his fears. That started with his routine. Here, today.

((No spells aside from Attainment))

Spade replaces the gas cap. and looks out a the traffic pn the road, something catches his attention. Wasn't that car across the street also parked outside Spade's apartment block?

Spade notices the ruffle of paper. Was the driver reading a newspaper? Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Spade was being paranoid. Maybe The Counciler was imaging things. And maybe he was being followed. gets in his car and pulls out calmly. Maybe it was nothing. But Spade wanted to be sure.He pulls out of the lot, keeping his attention on the road and keeps driving to the tattoo parlour.

~about three minutes and boring driving latter.~

Spade pulls in the back lot of Mark-it-Up Tattoo and Piercing and, using his key. enters in to his work through the employee entrance. He waves to the guys talking over cars and girls and politics and music. Normal folk on the fringe of normal society. Spade heads for his chair and starts prepping his inks and needles. Occasionally looking out the front window to see if that car was outside.

It takes a few minutes after Spade arrives for the car to park outside, but it is indeed there, just on the other side of the street. The delay seems to point to 'just enough time to go around the block'. It takes a few moments for the man at the wheel to look around, as though he were trying to spot some form of street sign.

After he has apparently failed to get his bearings from eyesight alone, he pulls up a paper road map, and studies it. It largely obscures his face, though he throws occasional glances, more commonly towards Spade's workplace.

Who the? Is that Henry? Spade frowns as he thinks. Coming to a decision he heads out the front door. "Frank! Smoke break!"

"Like a I give a~" comes the reply before the front door pulls shut.

Spade crosses the front lot, waits for the road to be clear and hurries across to the mysterious car that seems to have followed him. If it wasnt Henry, Spade was screwed. The Obrimos readies an Imago to lash back should things get ugly.

Henry, from his hidden vantage point behind a paper map, notices Spade out the corner of his eyes. Did he see me? His mentor had given him advice before, though : Give yourself away before anyone else does, and you've given up advantage. Wait, see, hear. Then act. So he does. His only concession to movement is to bring up a finger and trace the contour of a particular road. His other hand has its fingers crossed, in what would normally be a childish act, but hell, it can't hurt.

He wasn't moving. But this was the same car. Spade crosses the curb and step up next to the Window looking inside at the man. Looking from him ot the map? A Map? The age of GPS units built into phones this guys was following Spade around and pretending to be lost reading a map.

It was Henry. Only dinosaurs read maps.

"I'm sorry. But. Do you need something?" Spade shouts through the glass. His hand drifting to the seal between the door and car's body. A zap of Matter and Mr. Dino was jammed inside.
Was it Henry?

The map comes down once Spade starts to speak, and the reader is indeed Henry. He is dressed similarly to when Spade saw him last, and certainly wearing the same face. A slightly different hairstyle, a 5 o'clock shadow, but it's him. If it isn't Henry, then Henry needs to sue whoever is trying to steal his schtick.

"Councilor," he responds, trying to sound surprised, and largely succeeding. He lowers the window with a press of a button, apparently having made the concession to have electric windows. Not that he had to like having them. "Places to go, just planning the best route to get there." Come on, come on, add something, his training urges him. "What are you doing here?" he asks, forcing himself to sound curious.

Spade cancels the spell that would force Henry to use his passenger door. The thought of turning gasoline to water is still inviting. "I work here Henry." Spade traps the cutting remark before it leaves his lips. But it was true. Spade did have a real job. Henry did not.

"You should invest in a Tomtom." Spade puts off the conspiratorial musing of why Henry was following him for latter. Spade had nothing to hide. And Henry was free to do what he wanted. Besides, having a Guardian watching for your back meant he was also looking out for it. "Do you want some work done? I'm good with Tribal stuff." Spade nods to the sign standing by the street.

Of course, Henry knew this was the man's workplace. It's not like it wasn't obvious. But still, he went the part of the innocent bystander, here totally by accident. He scoffs at the idea of a Tomtom. "One of those GPS screens? Wouldn't touch one with a 10-foot pole. A man wants to get somewhere, he better be able to do it himself." He sounds genuine in his sentiment to never use one, but whether that's the real reason is, as usual, anyone's guess. he shakes his head with another chuckle. "And no, sorry, tattoos aren't my style." A distinctive, easily identifiable sign? 'Not Henry's style' just might be the understatement of the year.

He lets a heartbeat go by, taking a good long look around to make sure noone is watching, or listening, or even within easy earshot. When he speaks again, it's quiet, almost a whisper. "I've figured out your dreams."

Spade blinks. Was Henry going to discuss that out here? That was incredibly unlike him. The Geezer was not only rusty, but growing blunt too. "Really? What could you make out?"

Well, that had caught the Councilor's attention, if nothing else had. Good. Henry nods towards the empty passenger seat. "Get in, let's go for a ride. Tell you on the way." It's not that he wanted to discuss it here, per se. But the subject was definitely at the forefront of his thoughts.

Spade pauses before he answers. Clearly he concerned about jump into a random car car a riding away. But then, he could always bail out if so needed. Spade finally shrugs and rounds to tha passenger side, climbing in. If Henry was going to wipe his mind, he'd have done so already. If Henry was going to murder Spade he would have done so even before today. And really, Spade had little to lose.

Henry gives the Councilor time to get in, then starts the car and pulls into traffic. Without a word, he turns on the radio, and the Beatles' "She loves you" starts playing. "White noise," he offers as an explanation. Or maybe he's lying and just really likes the song. He starts to go around the block, stopping on the opposite side of the building. Pulling over, he takes good long looks through every mirror and out every window in the car as he speaks, "How many people do you know that have access to Time, Councilor?" Innocent question, right?

Spade furrows his brow. "Orphan and Sentinel West I believe. I'm sure a few of the other Acanthus do as well such as Jordan and Jack. Tyria... Why do you ask?" Spade wonders again his he will remember this conversation. Henry could have deduced Arcana specialty on his own.
Wich meant he was looking for something specific.

Of course that name would come up, wouldn't it? "At the Consilium, you called those dreams premonitions." He leans back in his seat, apparently satisfied with his inspection of the rearview mirrors, for now. "But they're not, not quite." He hesitates a brief moment. Was he really going to take that step, to say what he found out? "Time loop," he finally announces, before looking straight into the Councilor's eyes, gauging the man's reaction to those words.

Spade nods solemnly. "That's a possibility. There is a belief among Libertines that our Order may have been founded in such a way. That Time itself was adjusted." Spade leans back in his seat, recalling an old conversation. "Like something straight out of a Fantasy Novel. If your right. that means it really happened. That Sentinel Tug and Armstrong both were converted either by choice or force. More importantly. It means the enemy was stopped and the proper time flow was restored... Or was it?"

"It wasn't," Henry answers without hesitation. He starts enumerating facts, lifting a finger at each individual one. "Armstrong is killed. The Abyss invades, turns this city into a nightmare. The Arrows throw everything they have at it. Supernal arms race." His voice drops even lower, if that was even possible. "Armageddon. End of the city. Inevitable." He closes his hand back up. "A Master of Time resets the whole thing." He looks slightly more wary as he finishes, as though saying that tired him out. "The whole thing resets, with only a few remaining echoes. Your dreams." he finishes, letting the Councilor absorb that.

Spade tires. But there was still too many questions. "This seems beyond the ability of even a Master of Time. To restart reality?..."

"I didn't say it didn't cost him, or her, or they. And it fits. The echoes you dream and write are the only clues left behind to breaking the cycle, either intentionally or not." He starts taking another look in the mirrors. "Something like that would be a wide-open door for the Abyss. I wouldn't be half-surprised if the resetting was what drew the Abyss into the city in the first place. Which means every time the loop resets, a little more of it gets in." Stretching and squirming in his seat, he adds, "Which means eventual defeat is unavoidable." That word felt strange. The last time he'd used it was in the middle of a breakdown, and saying it now brought back memories of that day, of that thought process. Have to break that cycle, can't fall into that depression again. "Unless we stop it."

"Then we will stop it." Spade says in agreement. "This may have only happened once. I'm sure we'd have evidence for other instances. But that is neither here nor there. So where would you start to unravel this puzzle?" Spade considered the bridge and the rogue Mages brought up at the Consilium meeting.

"Time heals all wounds." Henry replies, matter-of-factly. "Rewinding it erases evidence. For all we know we've had this exact same conversation ten times before." His answer to Spade's question, however, is without hesitation, without doubt. "Once Armstrong goes, the city goes. Either we stop everything before it happens, or we stop the cycle from closing. I'd prefer the former, but the latter can work too." Although he leaves the implications of the second option unsaid. "We can't stop it on our own. The Consilium needs to know of this. Too many options, too little time." And really, wasn't Time the one big problem here?

"Alright then. I'll speak with Jack and the other Councilors and bring the matter to Andrade. We should keep an eye on Armstrong and Tug." Spade considers how borderline that sounds. This wasn't something he was going to enjoy. "For their safety first most. The time lines branch at the moment the bridge is activated. If we are going to pre-empt another loop, that's what we stop." Loop didn't seem the right word, but Spade could consider etymology and metaphysics latter.

"While we are speaking of Tug. I was considering bringing him into our Cabal. But if we are a team half that decision is yours."

Henry nods, with a hint of a smile on his face. "My thoughts exactly. Get the Council on it, they might be able to contribute." Another look out the rearview mirror. "No objections from me to him joining us. Speak to him about it." He thinks a few moments, before adding, "I'll see what I can do about watching over Miss Armstrong." There was something else that could be done, but Henry wouldn't trust anyone with that particular task.

"Then I think we have a plan of action sir." Spade tires hard not to flinch. this was the part where Henry said 'not so fast..' and Spade went 'huh?' and Henry went MIND PWN!

"That we do." Starting to pull back out into traffic, to bring Spade back to the front of the store, "Now, let's get you back to work, and me back to mine. Stay in touch." Unless Spade has anything else to add, Henry leaves him to his workday, and gets back to his own.