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Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

The Mormon wallflowers, moving like assembly line robots? Hard not to notice them, Sherry thinks, studiously fiddling with a frustratingly full box of merch. You think they're--

Konnie's announcement drops like someone cannonballing into a pool, though it probably splashes Sherry more than it does the anemic audience. drat it, tearing down the kiosk takes time! It does in a larger, more vibrant venue, at least. There's an art to setting up shop (probably a science, but art sounds better in Sherry's head), figuring out how much and what is going to sell based on the audience. There's no point in unloading half the Frogger at a place like this, and either too much or too little on the table can look unprofessional.

But no, really, Sherry's got the ball caps stowed before Konnie stalks off the stage. The rest of the stuff follows almost as quickly.

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Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"More zombie-like shuffle. Should maybe get that place checked for gas leaks," Sherry notes, hurrying past, eyes barely clearing the stack of boxes in her arms.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry Wayne - Manager. Team Face. Knife at a Gunfight

Click, click, clickety-click, comes the sound of Sherry's shoes as she ascends the back staircase. Which is odd, because wasn't she just-- whoa.

With the kind of speed that edges in on Meg's turf, Sherry has managed her way out of her street clothes and into something an adolescent boy might imagine as street fighting clothes: black wet-look synthetic corset over matching skirt and support top, and knee-high boots with heels that hoist her into the realm of the amazonian. Her hair has worked itself into a dense spray of tight braids, which looks like they'd hurt to be struck with even before one notices the fine chain woven through each of them, and the knobbed flail heads the size of pinballs that hang from each.

"Are they still here?" she asks breathlessly, coming up behind the others.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

For all the self-absorbing altruism the Lenny lays claim to, there's an awful lot of selfs-pity in how they say it. Sherry slinks out with them and the rest of the group, glad that the confrontation has been so subdued. After Konnie is finished talking, she pipes up with a gentleness belied by... well, looking like a back issue of Heavy Metal.

"Do any of you remember who you were, or what you were like, before Lenny? Did you really understand what was being offered? Did you really, truly have nothing else? When most people offer one-ness, they mean it metaphorically..." she trails off, glancing at the one reciting from a factoid feed. "Sorry if my form of address is offensive. I'm not used to speaking with... well, what sounds like one person speaking out of a half-dozen mouths."

She pauses again. This is seriously weird, like a cult taken to bizarre extremes-- or communism, like Konnie said, beyond the weirdness of Red Scare paranoia. "I understand what you-- what Lenny, sorry, is trying to do, and it's a great sentiment, but... it's ignoring the people involved. Leveling the playing field is a great idea, but you do that by changing the field and the rules of the game itself, not the players... you accept that some people are going to be better or worse at different aspects of the game, and you make sure that, win or lose, everyone enjoys themselves. That's the problem--" Sherry looks right at the one reciting pay disparities "--Everyone thinks of it as one big game of pro ball, but most of us are strictly Little League or playing in the sandlot." She smiles a little. Gypsy Widow's playing a lot of away games these days.

Next, Sherry turns to the person talking about crotches. "You're right. People worry too much about what's in each other's underwear... but there's more to sex than crotch soccer. Not all of it's good, just like skin color, or where you were born, but that doesn't make it worth negating."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"You aren't saying it, but I heard an 'if' before each of those statements... one that got bigger each time," Sherry says, returning from some nebulous space between her ears.

"If enough people joined you, you could... what, swing a vote? Organize a boycott? Mess with the Nielsen ratings? There are a limited number of non-violent things you can do with numbers, and even politics barely counts outside of voting."

Individual strands of hair lace themselves through the chains dangling from her head, keeping them and their mace-ends still as she shakes her head. "The right people, whoever they are, wouldn't be the joining kind. The movers and shakers already have everything they want, or they can get it without your help. The revolutionaries? They don't do sit-ins."

The blonde gestures to one of the Legion. "One of you is good at repeating depressing numbers, but... I don't think any of you are exactly good with people. I'm not trying to be insulting, but in there you stuck out like two giant hands with thumbs for fingers. No sense of the tempo of the room, or the rhythm, dressed like a bunch of Mormon missionaries who got lost on the way to Temple. Out here..."

Sherry furrows her brow. "I hear what you're saying. The world needs a change. The right person in the right place... but I'm not feeling it. All of you sound like someone who is only alive because they're getting regular doses of synthetic fucks-to-give. You spoke of depression before, you know what I'm talking about. That isn't the kind of presentation that drives people to make... anything, except sympathetic motions."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Whoosh! Sherry catches the blast of water right in the gut, but corset boning and layers of rubbery material save her from what might have been a bruise.

"The hell!" she cries out, flailing, as while her boots may be made for walking, stumbling backwards is a totally different story. Sherry manages to spin herself around, but still ends up on hands and knees as Konnie shouts about demons and whips the water into a vicious barrier between them and the Others.

Dripping water, Sherry cranes her neck to look at Eliza. "Demons? For serious?" If it's demons, Eliza would know... and if it's demons, Sherry should get standing again, nowish. She's up and around again in time to hear the Others pleading, and as she brushes at her knees, to catch a look from one in particular. The expression she offers in return is just as melancholy.

"All of us do," she replies, "But they've rigged the game. You wouldn't want to share thoughts with the kind of person who can get away with shortcuts. I... you don't."

The blonde holds the person's gaze for a moment longer, lets hers drop, and sighs. "Before anyone goes anywhere, I want to do something, something I hope helps more than just a sympathetic motion. I'm going to feel like Queen Bitch of the Land of Ice and Knives if I don't, instead of just looking like her."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Sherry leans over and helps Meg to her feet, brushing her shoulders off and making certain that she can stand. "I'll take care of it, thanks," she murmurs to the meteoric redhead, and turns back to the... well, Legionnaires works, doesn't it?

"I don't know how long what Eliza did will last. I'm sorry."

The blonde takes a step closer, mindful of Konnie's chilblain barrier, and makes a point of meeting and holding gaze of each Legionnaire for a few moments... or until one and another look away. "I don't know any of you from Adam or Eve," she begins, "But I do know a few things about each and every one of you. You are not stupid. You are not worthless. Your lives have worth, and you deserve happiness. Anybody who tells you otherwise is lying to you. I don't care if it's some rear end in a top hat on the bus, someone you thought loved you, or that vicious poo poo of a voice in your head that digs up bad memories. They're lying. You're alive. That's more precious than diamonds."

"I don't know how much you must have been hurting when 'Lennie' came to you, how lonely you must have felt. I don't think you're stupid, or weak for it. Maybe desperate, but courageous too. You're all incredibly brave for opening yourselves like that, for taking the risk of people discovering that you really are as awful as you feel sometimes. I couldn't," she continues, looking to each as she speaks, colour rising in her face.

Shaking her head, Sherry says, "CEO paycheques, global warming, war in the Middle East... put that aside for a minute. Right here, right now: we have failed you, and you deserve better. Family, friends, the government, society... we blew it. We haven't given you the help you need, the help you deserve, the help that... some of you may have been afraid to ask for. For my part, I want to stop not helping. I'm going to give you cards for some friends who have been at this... weirdness thing for a lot longer than we have. They're out of town, but they take collect calls-- just tell them that Sherry sent you, who you are, and what your situation is. They'll help. I'll write my cell number on the back too, so if you ever need someone different to talk to, I'll be there."

Glancing away, Sherry brushes at her eye. Konnie's whirling ice must have kicked up some dust, or something. It's quick, and she looks back to the Legionnaires momentarily.

"Things probably aren't going to go well with Lenny, and I don't want you, or any of your other selves, getting hurt, you've gone through... pff. We're miles past 'enough'. Could you help us convince them to get away from him? I know it's a lot to ask, and you're getting those numbers for you and them no matter what, but please, think about it."

---
Rolling Careful +4 (Sherry's speaking at length and with clarity) to give these poor people a deeply-deserved uplifting talk, and hopefully encourage them to help them get their fellows out of harm's way.

[22:05] <Bieeardo> !r 4df+4
[22:05] <Krysmbot> Bieeardo, /-+/+4 = 4
[22:05] <Maidbot> Bieeardo, +++/+4 = 7
[22:06] <Bieeardo> ><

It's funny, because I was torn between invoking Making Amends for a reroll or a +2. Teach me not to check the channel for multiple bots. :P

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Watching the ex-Legionnaires take strength from her words has a strong, obvious effect on Sherry. Though her eyes are brimming, she focuses her effort on keeping her voice clear and steady. She breaks down with a hiccup as she takes Aaron's hand, squeezing it quickly before shaking.

"Your grandfather sounds like he saw his share of hardships too. Pleased to meet you, Aaron, I just wish we'd got off on a better foot. And I guess by the same coin, anything good is worth working for."

The other ex-Lennies are greeted with red-eyed smiles, handshakes and pats on available shoulders, before Sherry distributes business cards with her cell number hastily scribbled on the back. She nods understandingly to the fellows who just can't abide the thought of going back to Lenny. "It's okay! I meant it. You take care of yourselves, leave the rest to us. It's okay. We'll work it out."

Sherry turns back to Aaron. "Eliza should be able to cook up another... whatever that was. I hope it's as potent as the last one. I want the four of you to be careful: don't feel bad if you need to run, you've already been through things most people couldn't imagine. I don't want anyone getting hurt if we can help it."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

It only takes a minute to detangle or cut the flails from Sherry's hair, and to straighten the shortened strands out. Who knows how she manages to get out of her Future-Kill costume and into something less conspicuous almost as quickly. Flats, pants and a jacket with pockets for stashing a handful of those spiky balls away. She's grown her hair out shorter than it often is, a bit below the shoulders, long enough to have some utility without giving it a growth spurt, short enough that it probably won't be an immediate tell for the massive cognitive power Legion can bring to bear. The best defense is to be underestimated, the best offense, to be unexpected, or something like that.

"I'll go with Eliza, and tie up anyone who tries to get in her way. I should have put my Fairuza Balk outfit on, so I could look like her familiar."

---
Barf. I hate trying to use depression and anxiety episodes as an excuse for slow posting, almost as much as I hate dealing with them in the first place. I'm sorry.

Refresh is currently 4/3.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry - 4/3

The tall blonde walks with Eliza, to her side and slightly behind, like an escort. Given the difference in size between Sherry and diminutive demoness, and the latter's precious mode of dress, she might pass for a chaperone. Nothing to see here; just two sisters off on a firefly collecting expedition.

Sherry has worked for powerful, dangerous men, most often as a social manager, or social appendage, but also as an obstacle for their counterparts on the righter side of the law. She learned things from those encounters, and from listening in on the conflicts that blew past her like an indignant cliche. Things like body language and tone, ways to provoke and to mollify, and when best to play either card.

Legion. From the Biblical story to the scheme with the Lennies, it's all ego. He wants to be acknowledged-- no, understood as a power unto himselves, to get the attention of the great beyond by wrecking its favorite toy. That's why, as she tries not to jump at those first booming words, Sherry digs deep to bring forth the most dismissive ice queen in her repertoire. To Konnie's frogeyes, her anemone tentacles might seem to bulge with poison.

Sherry waits, impassive as Legion booms his demands, stifling an urge to rest a hand on Eliza's shoulder as the demoness gives voice to her own frustrations. Then she looks around, eyebrows raised to emphasize her lazily half-lidded eyes, boredom billowing from her like frost from an industrial freezer.

"Booming voice. Oh, very nice, very Oz. And very impressive, living in the weak and the wounded like that. I'm surprised you weren't serving Kool-Aid as a sacrament." Her gaze stops moving, fixed halfway up toward the moon. "Now."

Beat.

Condescension drips, as Sherry drawls, "They say that the greatest trick the Devil played was getting people to believe he didn't exist. I say his best trick was getting people to believe that he was still relevant."

---
Mouthy mortals make great targets! Sherry is trying to support Eliza's attempt to draw Legion out. Assuming Eliza's Overcoming an Obstacle (Legion's Lurking), I'd like to Create an Advantage to help her out by tagging Legion as THE Biggest Ego and tossing a few barbed verbal darts straight at him.
Either Clever +4 or Flashy +3 (because this is equal bits Puss in Boots trickery and the flinty flash of society knifeplay), and spending a FP to invoke her Self-Actualizing Narrative for a reroll if she needs it, because this is some archetypal poo poo hitting the fan.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry 5/3

Sherry already has a zinger about things beneath the Almighty's notice when Meg and her unwelcome occupants come stumbling out of the woods. And then, the lake heaves up and stands on its edge, like a tsunami waiting for a family of ducks to waddle past. The ducks are quick.

Sherry slides behind Eliza, drops to her knees, and wraps her arms tight around the little demoness's middle, leaving Eliza's free to deal with her jar of whoop-rear end. Behind, the blonde's hair billows out and begins to weave itself, a desperate attempt at a cushion, or to corral enough air to float.

"Do it," Sherry whispers to her. "I've got you, and I'm never letting go."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Ow. Whoa! Ow. Ow.

If that's what getting bodyslammed by one of Meg's fields feels like, even when she's pulling punches, the Yarn-Ball Special is going right back into the Bad Ideas File.

Sherry holds on to Eliza as best she can as the water rushes over and around the barrier as if it were a prop from Spinal Tap singing When the Levee Breaks. Her hair lashes sluggishly in the rushing water; its grasp on a nearby tree and the strength of the current work together to slam her back-first into its deeply-rooted trunk. Painful though it is, leaving her slumped at its base, it may have kept Eliza from being swept too far away to put a stop to the disembodied Legion. Or not. Girl can fly, after all.

In the echoing aftermath of Eliza's finishing move, Sherry's phone gurgles. Which is strange, because she's fairly certain that isn't one of her ringtones.

"Drive back to New York Tonight. See you tomorrow. Good work." reads the text from Liana. Sherry squints at the phone for a few moments, grunts, and slumps over.

~

Destiny! Grab the golden calf by the horns! Drag the dame by the hair! It's always some goon who thinks he can shake a few more bucks out of Karma by being a go-getter. Nevermind the ones who don't really want to be got. Helen and Cassandra could tell you a lot about that, if anybody bothered listening to the stories beyond Odysseus being a clever prick and Achilles being... not so clever.

Most of these guys were a lot more Achilles than Odysseus.

Too bad that Shangri-la thing didn't work out. It would've been better than Xanadu. It couldn't have been worse. Rollerskaters everywhere, that was surreal. Who would have guessed that Kublai's pleasure-dome was inverted, and being used as a rollerdrome?

Pop! Ping! Clatter! Bits of handcuff go flying as Sherry rises. A few conspirators are already turning toward the noise, but she was already reaching out with her lunging locks before releasing herself. She's gentle with them. Relatively. A love-tap here, the kind of high-speed cranial collision you see when a kindergartener makes her dolls kiss, and then it's just the two of them.

Just what the heck is she going to do with him? There are a number of options, including letting him continue to back up into that pit of sharp things. These are not the kind of decisions she ever wanted to make. No, right now the only decisions she wants to make involve the number of lumps in her tea and what kind of jam to put--

~

Sherry wakes with a soft 'mmph', as the arm she'd draped protectively around Eliza is jostled.

"I have this crazy craving for scones," she mumbles, taking mental stock of her locks. Some people sleepwalk. She... it's more of a drift.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Sherry nods, carefully wrangling strands that have looped themselves around objects or become trapped beneath limbs or things that have shifted about during the night. They wrap themselves into a braid the size of a boa constrictor, and drape themselves along the length of the passenger bench.

"There's got to be a place open, we're still on the highway. Let's do it: stretch our legs, use the bathroom, get a bite to eat... Liana's not going to be expecting us at our best, anyway."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Oh god, poor Meg. That bastard Legion must have left a bathtub ring on her soul.

Frowning, Sherry leans forward to pat the meteoric redhead's shoulder. Even her friends generally prefer the feel of fingers and flesh than the whispering of her locks. Her other hand stays on Eliza's shoulder.

"Scones!" Sherry nods in agreement with Konnie. "The good ones! And if the coffee isn't just as good, we riot, right?"

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"Four, please? I'll steal some of Konnie's butter and jam when she's distracted."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"Definitely not, unless that promotion meant you--"

Sherry pauses, halfway into the booth.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. Your genital arrangement is none of my concern."

She slides the rest of the way in and leans forward, hunting around for something that doesn't look like it's been sampled.

"Maybe whatever Liana wants to talk to us about is going to change some of that?" she suggests.

"Weird dreams here, too. No Frognik, just... Indiana Jones getting mistaken for the kidnap interest and busting out when I got bored."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"Probably not that many," Sherry guesses, looking down to conceal a smirk. "Great minds think alike, after all."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

The first thing that Sherry does is get herself the heck home. Naturally her mailbox in the lobby is crammed full of flyers and bills, with the occasional bit of personal correspondence showing through like flecks of gold in river silt. The inside of her apartment is stuffy and dusty, the way a place can get after a month's stasis. Mrs. Jones ginger cat, Tigger, meows piteously up at her from the fire escape when she opens the window to let some air in. She lets the vertigo-stricken moggie in too, and carries him upstairs to his mistress. The two women chat for a time, Sherry politely evasive about her activities, while Mrs. Jones is very happy to fill her in on all the little things that have occurred around town in the meantime.

The cupboards are full of non-perishables. Sherry makes a note in her mental scheduler to get some fresh things later. Tonight will be dinner out. Before that, the meeting. Before that, a ba-- no, a shower, as nice as a bath might feel after the last few days.

~~~

"I thought it was my ability to go from secretarial barricade to wide-eyed ingenue at a moment's notice," Sherry quips, not meeting Liana's gaze at first. "Or the jumping in shouting. I don't think my scared straight routine worked very well." She glances away again and closes her eyes.

"I'd have had to be oblivious not to notice it. Coincidence only explains so much. I always told myself it was just... you know, mundane causes, not that I'm some kind of magnet for weird."

"My band shirt and key to the cash box will be on your desk by the end of the day," she tells Konnie, before finally looking back to Liana.

"Cup of hemlock?" Sherry suggests. "Sorry. This is just... a really heavy thing to confront."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"If I'm going to be-- if I am a magnet for this kind of stuff, I think I need to brush up on my PR skills. I feel like I was playing Bad Receptionist too much while we were gone."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Home again, again. After calling Edna (I'm back, thanks for the loan of the clothes, yes the mirror dress was a huge hit) and a few of her close friends (Oh, Jill's got a boyfriend? Girls' night out with the other singles, then?), Sherry considers getting a Facebook account again. She decides against it, again, reasoning that it's just as easy to call or text the people she wants to talk to, and that she doesn't really have anything she wants to tell the world at large.

~~~

"I don't mind the quiet. It's better than some goober deciding I need a boyfriend or a dance partner, and he knows just the cult to provide both," Sherry says, playing with the cocktail umbrella that the bartender tossed into her electric popsicle.

"The buzz? I feel it. It's not as bad as when I'm out by myself. I always wonder who it is, and if they noticed me, and... if they're going to try something, or need help. Worst was when I was in the checkout line at the grocery store; I thought it might have been the cashier. Would've been awkward. 'Paper, plastic, fate of the free world?'"

Sherry pats her purse. There's a strand of hair wound down the strap, and through the closure, ample defense against pickpockets or snatchers. "I've still got the smartphone I had before. I guess this fate-braiding business has fringe benefits like that." She smirks and raises her glass for a sip. "Watch it fall into the toilet by the end of the week."

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Sherry remembers too much vodka, and a few incidents that made her swear she was going to shave her head. She wakes up particularly tangled, with a braid the size of a baguette running down behind her ear, and a bow made from the paper sheath of a drinking straw intertwined with another lock.

She could have shaved, and been back to her usual volume by the time she left the apartment, but there's something primal about grooming, something that goes back to the savanna and the trees. It's actually a lot more that when someone else is doing it for you, so she substitutes Zen as she unkinks and untangles every strand and knot, nursing a cup of tea in her dark bedroom.

~~~

Sherry doesn't have any particular talent for three-dimensional spaces-- well, aside from being able to navigate her hair around without seeing it... or rattling off directions to the bathroom, the maintenance closet, or meeting room three. The latter one is just good practice. Still, she can tell that the Lodge is enormous. Good feng shui, really open and airy despite being underground, but still the kind of scale where they'll need to be careful not to poke a hole through to the Batcave. She's surprised to see they haven't had to build around any subway lines.

It gets her to thinking, though, recalling what Liana said about the 'skein' and alternate realities, and the way people had been widening the gaps in the warp and woof of how things work. Is it possible that some of this place isn't actually under her New York?

Oh hey, there's Eliza and her pet dragon. Should she ask Liana about how this place got built? Maybe it's favors owed. Liana seems to have a lot of them. Hm, the soup looks good today. Wait, what?

Sherry is used to not being quite sure to expect from Eliza at any given moment, whether it be a jar full of spells, or somehow managing to fly on those fluppery little wings of hers, or even the way she dresses from day to day. She watches, trying to convince herself that the little critter is just an energetic lizard at first... until it breathes fire, like the little dragon on that show people keep telling her she should watch.

She decides to get lunch a little later, moving over to Eliza's table. Not sure if the demoness has chosen the spot for privacy, or because her companion is skittish, she slows down and calls over before crossing the last couple of table spaces or so.

"Hey, 'Liza!" she calls, and smiles. "How are you feeling? And who's your friend?"

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

Sherry turns toward the answering voice, eyes widening when she sees its source. "Liana! Hi! And... oh, I guess that makes sense. Dad always said it'd take a miracle for me to get a puppy, too."

"Ryan!" she blurts too, recognizing the young man immediately, but taken aback by the shine in his eyes. It's a bright spark, the kind an angle grinder throws, born of intense friction and inexorable change. It's the kind of look that makes her doubt her own dedication to Sparkle Motion.

Regardless, she summons a smile and takes his hand, giving the firmest shake she can. "You look fantastic! I'm so glad for you. This whole thing really agrees with you, huh?" she asks, before releasing his hand and looking to the person she hasn't met.

"Hi, Mariella, I'm Sherry," she smiles, again, with a small nod. "I used to handle filing for Liana, before... before things got anywhere near this big!"

Chuckling to herself, Sherry nods to Liana and gestures to an empty table nearby. "I'll bug Eliza about her new buddy later," she says, taking a seat.

And then Stan arrives. Stan, who gallumphs in and plops down with all the self-awareness of the puppy Sherry had been comparing Eliza's dragon to. Stan, who stands out in comparison to the driven Olympians (athletes or gods, take your pick) surrounding her.

For the moment, at least, Sherry decides that Stan is the most relatable person at the table. Keen, but not necessarily honed.

"Sherry," Sherry introduces herself again, taking Stan's hand for a quick shake. "I've been out of town since before the place got as big as it is now. Liana's introducing me to some of the newer folks."

Sensing that the others are familiar with whatever Stan is boasting about, and with a feeling they're not likely to quiz him on it, Sherry takes that weight onto herself.

"Eight and a half feet of what?" she asks Stan, innocently.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"Someone left a window open?" Sherry suggests to Meg. She looks to Stan and spreads a hand out flat. Stay steady.

Lovely setup. It's better for Naroa being right, on at least a technical level. As a statement, it's like one of those magician's scarves: you keep pulling, and... no, that's a lousy metaphor. It's something that gets more angles the closer you look.

'You can't keep me out.' That's the obvious one. 'If you do, they'll remember it.' God knows what she's told those people, but if one of the people who has history with her does something, her tour group is going to come away with an image of angry, super-powered people in a secret underground hideout. From Boys' Town to The Man in a one-two punch. Subparagraph to the first, she could have brought armed and angry people in, for that matter, not these folks off the street.

"It's not like someone would have built a cat door in, intentionally."

---
I am the one who sucks. Sorry for more slow.

Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"I don't think that logic worked in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure either, though we did get a cool playhouse out if it too. Sweetie."

Timing is everything. Especially when you're too wrapped up in yourself to notice the nearby water goddess swiftly coming to boil.

"Konnie!" Sherry jolts to her feet and scrambles past the table, grabbing for her friend's shoulders.

"Kon! If you make her look sympathetic, we're going to look like the heavies to these people she's dragged along, and anybody who watches a phone clip on Youtube. C'mon. Please."

Bieeanshee fucked around with this message at 23:18 on Aug 28, 2016

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Bieeanshee
Aug 21, 2000

Not keen on keening.


Grimey Drawer
Sherry

"'Kay." Sherry brings her hands together in one of those barely-there, corporate claps, and holds them together as she walks toward the group of people Naroa's dragged in. "I'm not interested in fighting with anyone, or arguing the finer points of cause and effect, so... Hi."

She smiles and bows slightly to the group. "We weren't expecting you yet, but yes, you're still perfectly welcome here. Feel free to help yourself at the commissary. Bathrooms are right around the corner, there. If this is all too much to handle, we have an infirmary and some meditation rooms where you can get an Advil or have some time to yourself."

A little while passes while Sherry reads faces, narrowing her eyes slightly at one in particular. Something about that one. No matter. She takes a deep breath and tips her head toward them. "And if this is just too drat much, I understand. Nobody really wants dream logic to keep working when you're awake, especially if it's a bad dream's. So, if anyone just wants to get out of here, I can take you to the exit, and I understand. I can't promise the door will be in the same place if you come back --if this place has a doorbell, it probably plays the James Bond theme or something-- but I can give you my card."

"I'd ask everyone to keep this place under their hats, but I know how that sounds to my ears. So, act according to your conscience... and that just sounds awkward."

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