[AW] A day in the life of... Gritch.

edited October 2010 in In-Game
Gritch, it's the stark contrast of a warm, naked leg draped over yours and the frigid breeze coming in from ragged hole in the window on the second story of Mimi's place that wakes you. The wool blanket has been folded and lost to your skin in the tossing and turning of the night. The room is still dark, mostly, but there's enough light filtering in from the outside through that window and this partially collapsed portion of the roof to see the grey, foggy twilight of the next morning has come. Cum?

It's dried and caked in your nether regions. Mimi usually lets you sleep over for a small convenience charge on top of the normal rate you pay for the girl. Speaking of, she's out. Cold. She mumbles something in her sleep, and starts to shake a little, dragging the tattered wool blanket from your side of the stained mattress over her round ass and waist. She doesn't bother covering her breasts.

Who is this girl? Is it Kettle? It's definitely not White. This girl has a creamy tony to her flesh, despite the chill in the room. Whomever she is, you've touched her mind and she's revealed her most troubling pain to you.

You can hear some voices coming from outside, and likely downstairs in the front room. They sound hushed, but stern.

What do you do?

Comments

  • I hate this room. I pay good money, and on time, too. And more often 'n' not, Mimi throws me in this room, with the hole, 'n' the cold. The cold doesn't make me shiver or nothin' much anymore, but I still don' like it. Reminds me of bad times, and bad things.

    For a minute, I think o' takin' the blanket back from Kettle. Bitch doesn't get paid to sleep, and certainly doesn't get paid to steal the bits o' room an' board I paid for. But then I let it go. Not worth tuggin', or the shriekin', either. I remember that part. Kettle's certainly a shrieker, both in and outta bed. She don't get her way, she's got a penchant for lettin' the whole fuckin' Chateau know. And if she does get her way, the same's true.

    I picked her for the night because she wasn't taken, and she was hard up enough to take my cash. Mighta preferred someone else, but Kettle isn't a bad lay, and I haven't been with her enough that some o' the more interestin' parts o' the experience for me have lost their luster. Still, though, I didn't feel like dealin' with her anymore. The thought of goin' in for a round two did not compare in the slightest with the potential for that shrieky voice echoin' in my ears the entire day.

    I pull one cigarette outta my pouch, hangin' on the chair nearby. Put it to my lips while my hands search for the old blackened lighter I'm usin' these days, until it runs outta juice. Lighter pops on after a few clicks, and I inhale smoke, let it simmer in my lungs while Kettle shivers under the blanket next to me. Then I toss it to the floor, swing outta bed, and crush it under one foot.

    Time to be goin'. I grab for the suit and pull the legs on first, then slip my boots on over the ends. This one's a sorta sickly teal suit, with a zipper running up the front, and a pretty intact hood, actually. I zip it up slowly an' carefully, so's not to wake Kettle, and then I scurry outta the room an' downstairs.
  • There's an iron spiral staircase that shakes and teeters as you climb down it. It's warmer in here. Heat leftover from a fire, just ash and cinders in the hearth now, from the night before. Several of Uncle's gang are passed out in the common room here and there. One of 'em face down at a table, another curled up like a baby near the fireplace, and still another lying on this old chaise lounge, upholstery all ripped and shredded, a half-nude girl strung out atop him drooling on his chest. There's a girl sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of the room. Her head tilted back and propped by the wall. Her shirt has one sleeve rolled up, revealing the nook of her elbow, marked with a slew of red marks, likely from needle punctures. She kind of coughs and chokes a little as you hit the main floor, but she doesn't move outside of that.

    There's a bar, with makeshift shelving protruding from this ornate frame that probably encased a huge mirror at one point. Unmarked, dirty glass jars and bottles line the shelving, some full or half-full with unidentified liquids of varying browns, gold and clear tones - others empty.

    As you start to cross the main floor, the arched wooden doors on the far side of the chamber, the doors leading out, open up and Mimi comes in, closing the door, turning to lock it but fumbling with the key-ring.

    "Goddamn, fucking cold."

    She shakes and pulls her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders. Her hair looks slightly damp and the shawl is marked by what seems like brief rain.
  • "Might as well leave it open," I say. I keep my voice loud enough that Mimi'll hear it, but not loud enough that it might carry into the ears o' these sleepin' angels. Especially not loud enough so it'll carry up to Kettle.

    Step by step, I pick my way through the trash an' the sleepers, avoiding the empty bottles strewn across the floor. I don't feel like pissin' off all these folk, just because I wanted to make an early exit. I pull on my gloves, and settle my suit around me as I go, 'cause damn does today seem to be one pleasant fuck of a day, and I don't want to have that cold seepin' into my bones any more than it has to on my way back to my place.

    I reach Mimi, an' I extend out a cigarette for her to take. No harm in being friendly, I always say. Well, no, I really never say that, but still, couldn't hurt. Maybe I'd get a better room next time, even though it'd cost me one o' my dwindling supply o' cigarettes.

    "We're settled?" I say, waiting to see whether she'll take the cigarette.
  • Mimi pauses and turns toward you. Mimi's wearing this ragged old pink housecoat with a cartoonish steaming coffee mug patch on the front pocket that's peeling off. You catch glimpse of a black silky slip underneath before she tightens the housecoat around her and slips her keys into the pocket.

    Mimi's got this raven-black hair that's loosely pulled back in a pony tail, a few thick strands hanging in her face. Her chiseled face looks god-awfully tired. She takes your cigarette, tucks it into her lips and leans forward for a light. She takes a deep drag, and then exhales, stretching her slender neck up toward the ceiling. Mimi looks older than all the other girls, but you can tell she was probably the best looking gal in her prime. She still holds her own.

    "Yeah. We're settled."

    She motions with her head outside and walks you out onto the small porch.

    "Gritch, do me a favor yeah?"

    She pauses, finishing the cigarette and flicking it out into the rain.

    "Well, I don't think Navarre knows Ruby has been working here lately. Can you maybe... well, you know how you can... I mean, could you maybe talk it over with him and make sure he doesn't cause no trouble here with her clients, yah know?"
  • "'Scuse me?"

    Navarre's girl? Workin' at Mimi's joint? Well, shit. I didn't really give a damn about her; after all, when it came down to it, workin' for Mimi was probably better than some other shit she'd find around this place, and she'd get protection. But Navarre weren't too likely to be okay with other men fuckin' his squeeze. Oh yeah, Mimi would have trouble. And so might the messenger.

    "You'll pardon me for wonderin', but why the fuck is this my problem?" My eyes are focused on Mimi, dead and cold, unblinking. I let her look away first, like I knew she would, before I continue. "You hired the girl. You had to know that one way or another, it wasn't gonna be good. Either she'd broke up with Navarre, which could mean all kinds of fuckery later on, or she was still with him, which could mean all kinds of fuckery right now. 'Specially if he didn't know about it."

    I don' want to help. I don' want to get involved. Navarre's...I wouldn't go s'far as to say friend. Ain't sure I got any o' them. But he's someone I didn't want pissed off and bulling around the Chateau, partic'lar because he might come t'me for advice. For all the shit I've seen and done, I ain't never been so good at lyin', so I want as little to do with this shit as I can.

    But Mimi...well, she could be a heinous bitch some times, and I was still pretty certain she'd soon as not ban me out, if my money weren't so good 'n' steady. But she'd given me a place t'stay, and every now and then a favor, like a bottle o' something that weren't quite as vile as the normal shit.

    Plus, if I helped her, maybe there was somethin' in it for me.

    "Y'need to explain this situation t'me, before I decide to do anythin'," I say, movin' to an empty chair nearby and sitting down with a squeak o' my suit. "Why did you hire her in the first place, an' how long has she been here?"

    (If need be, I'm totally up for reading Mimi as she speaks, to make sure I'm getting everything I need to know.)
  • Right on. Go ahead and give me a roll then to read a person and we'll go from there. It's definitely become a charged interaction.
  • Score! And away we go...

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • (Oh, are you kidding me? My first roll on this site, and its snake eyes? Man oh man, Gritch is going to have an interesting existence.)
  • Great! Answer these for me quickly:

    What's your character really feeling?
    How could Mimi get you to do this for her?

    And, I got one more for you. I'll let you know when to answer it. :)
  • Gritch is really feeling wary. Not just of the fact that doing this favor for Mimi might backfire and put Gritch into danger in some way, but because Gritch can perfectly acknowledge that Navarre is one of the few people in the whole of the Chateau who not only can stomach Gritch, but who actually seems to appreciate and respect him to some extent. For all that he'd never admit it even to himself, he doesn't want Navarre to get so pissed at him that he's got just one more enemy. He actually does kind of like Navarre enough to not want to bring this news. (Does that work?)

    Mimi could get Gritch to do this for her by helping him with White somehow. Gritch would probably only ever actually ask Mimi for credit at the place, but a sure bet would be if Mimi managed to help Gritch to either overcome his feelings towards White, whatever twisted things they are, or if Mimi helped Gritch to get close to White without ruining her. I'm not exactly sure what specific action would fit this description, though, so I hope this is enough to run with.
  • edited October 2010
    Nice.

    As you're talking, you can tell Mimi is listening intently, almost scanning you. Her eyes tell you she's working something out in her brain before you even have a chance to finish what you have to say, and she's waiting for her turn to speak.

    The light is starting to get brighter now. The rain is still coming down, but it's getting warmer, by maybe a degree or two. Not much. Mimi's breath is still producing small puffs of white clouds when she speaks. Far on the horizon, behind her, you see the sky has a dark cloud filled with lightning.

    "Don't presume to get into my business, Gritch. I'm asking you a favor, not making you a partner. I have my reasons for hiring Ruby and that's gotta be good enough for yah."

    Mimi leans against one of the wooden posts holding up the roof over you guys on the porch and pulls her housecoat as tight as it'll get.

    "She's been working here for a few weeks though, and making quite a bit of change for both of us. Now, you're the only one I know who has gotten at all close to Navarre and might be able to talk some sense into him, 'sides maybe Uncle. An, I ain't goin' to Uncle with this..."

    Mimi moves closer to you now, walking slowly. As she's moving, her housecoat kind of unfolds and she exposes her slip.

    "Thing is, way you look at people, I know you can see more into them. You're gonna know how to make this work. You're the only one that can."

    Now she's standing directly in front of you. You can feel the heat from her body radiating near you and smell the mixture of her cigarette and perfume.

    She starts to slowly straddle you, easing any tensions you might have, and rests herself onto your lap facing you. She starts to touch the zipper to your suit, fondling it, and you get this strange sense of youth emanating from her.

    "I know I have something you want."

    Mimi leans in closer, you can feel her breasts pressing against the outside of your suit now, she's that close now. Closer. She leans her head in next to your ear and you can feel her warm breath on your neck.

    "I've seen the way you look at White."
  • For a moment, I don' know how to respond. That...was not what I was expecting to hear. Not in the slightest. I'm frozen, unable to think.

    Then my hands rise and grab either of Mimi's shoulders. I yank her back, so I can look her in the eyes again. Not that it wasn't nice, in some other register of my brain, having her pressed against me. Just, I always do better when I can look 'em in the eyes.

    "What are you saying?" My eyes are trained on her, the way I've seen men point guns at things as are gonna be dead in a few seconds. "What are you offering?"

    Mimi comin' at me with her body, offerin' me a free tour, well, that I'd kinda expected. And t'be honest, maybe it would've been enough. Maybe.

    But...White? Could she really offer me...was it possible?
  • Mimi looks you right back in the eyes. Her eyes are dark. Not just the irises, but the shallow sockets around them. Her youthful aura dissipates.

    "You tell me, Gritch. What is your fascination with White? No one else wants the poor girl. She's a goddamned cherry for all I know."

    Mimi leans back in closer, maintaining eye contact, but nearing your scarred face with hers.

    "What do you want to do with her, Gritch? You wanna fuck her? Or, you wanna just hold hands in the orchard? I can help. I just gotta know what you need, honey."
  • My eyes are still on Mimi's, but I'm not there. I'm sprintin' in other places in my brain, tryin' to figure this out.

    What did I want with White? I'm not even sure I could say. Fuckin' was the easy answer, but that wasn't it, not by half. If I'd wanted that, hell, I had money, and I had more than money. I had ways of makin' her do what I wanted, an' I coulda had it long ago.

    No. That wasn't it.

    But it weren't "love," either. That's just some stupid word kids would throw around when they just wanted an excuse to stick it in each other and not feel empty about it. Something remembered from Before, lost all its meaning. Just a feeling, a notion, and an empty one at that. No, no time and no place for "love" here at the Chateau.

    So what?

    I feel the words bubblin' to the surface before I know it. "I want her to want me." They come out in a stream, an' I'm surprised to hear 'em. "Without me havin' to pay, or havin' to make her." I know the words're true, even as I say 'em.

    I'm back behind my eyes now, and I'm really lookin' at Mimi. Watchin' her. Need to see her reaction, see if she really thinks she can help me with this.

    "Can you offer me that?"
  • Mimi's smile goes broad, her head goes back and her chest heaves a bit. She laughing like you've never seen her laugh. But, it's brief.

    "You weird sunofabitch. You want her to want you, huh? We might have to work on your dress a little."

    Her smile fades. And, she gets serious.

    "Alright, you old loverboy. You help me with this situation with Ruby and Navarre, and I'll play the matchmaker. I can't guarantee anything. But, I have sway over her and I am sure as hell the only option you have in this regard. Let's get one thing straight though - if, and when White falls for you, if you're fucking her in my place, you're paying. I don't care if she'll bone you for free or not. Outside of here, well, just keep it discreet. She's still my girl."

    She climbs up off of you and rests her hands on her hip. She glares down toward The Chateau, through the fog seemingly.

    "Well, we have a deal?"
  • (Let's be adventurous.)

    She laughed. Don' quite blame her, I guess. But still, not something to get on my good side. Not at all.

    While her gaze is turned away, my hands are movin', slow and cautious, like I'm used to. The glove comes on nice and easy even though it's skin tight. I'm used to doin' this, to slippin' it on, and this is just another one of those times.

    "Deal." My ungloved hand goes out to shake hers. An' the moment she puts her hand in mine, I clamp my other hand on top, and plunge my brain deep into her.

    I'll keep up my deal, an' I'll do as I must. I'll help her, sure. But she needs to know damn certain. She doesn't laugh at me. And she better keep up her end.

    (So, assuming it's okay that she does shake Gritch's hand, I'm totally using Deep Brain Scan to read her with my violation glove. Questions for a soft hit: "In what ways are your character’s mind and soul vulnerable?" For a strong hit: "What are your character's secret pains?" and "For what does your character crave forgiveness, and of whom?"

    This is a Weird roll, so it's highlighted. Oh please let this go well.)
    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • Hands clamped, your mind slides deep into hers. How does it make you feel when you violate other people's minds like this?

    Like you're freefalling through an infinite mass of fog, you see deep into the clouds of Mimi's mind, and some of her secrets are revealed to you.

    In what ways are your character’s mind and soul vulnerable?

    Mimi sees the ghost of her dead son. She never interacts, pretending not to see it, but you know this could be used against her most assuredly.

    What are your character's secret pains?

    During the war with Dog Head, Mimi got caught by some of Dog Head's mean in the woods. They each took their turn. She never told anyone else about it. But, one of the men that was there. He lives in The Chateau now. Goes by the name Exit. Mimi sees him every now and then and it's like digging a knife into an old wound. She doesn't think he recognizes her though.

    For what does your character crave forgiveness, and of whom?

    Of Uncle, for aborting his baby. Not once, but twice with the help of the surgeon.

    And, I'm going to spend my last hold for Mimi to ask:

    What does your character intend to do in regards to fulfilling your end of the bargain?
  • Gritch is thinking about lying to Navarre, but realizes that that's probably not a good idea, not least because Gritch is not a good liar, and again, he doesn't want to lose Navarre's trust. So Gritch is planning to go find Navarre, to take him aside, and to tell him the truth, pretty flat out, no embroidery. Gritch will probably also tell Navarre that he's got a few choices. Navarre can quit the girl, let her be on her own, and Navarre might not be the worse for wear, after. Navarre can talk to the girl, get her to quit Mimi's, and find out why she joined up in the first place. Or Navarre can let it go, and be okay with a girl who's tryin' to earn a livin', no matter what she does. After all, she's doin' other guys for money, but him because she likes him. Supposedly, at least. Gritch will make it clear to Navarre that violence is absolutely not the right solution here, particularly not against Mimi and her place, or any of the men that Ruby's been with while she worked for Mimi, because they were all just part of a business transaction, nothing more. Nothing to take offense at. Most importantly, Gritch is thinking of offering, with some reluctance, his services in helping to figure out why Ruby started in the first place, and how Navarre might be able to help fix the situation.

    Gritch is planning on taking care of all this straight away, without waiting. Better to take care of it sooner than later, and Gritch has never been one for subtlety.

    Also, when Gritch plunges his mind into someone, it feels differently, of course, depending on the mind. But ultimately, Gritch feels safe, and powerful, and for just a moment, less empty. When he can submerge himself in someone else's being, he stops feeling the vacuum inside of him as much. He likes it, but he also knows that he shouldn't get addicted, which is why he tries to use it sparingly.
  • What does Mimi's mind feel like?
  • Like slipping through sheets of paper, each one tearing away as he goes, not really much of a defense at all, and getting colder as he goes deeper and deeper. There's a sadness trickling underneath it all, a blue melancholy and despair which tinges everything he feels, along with a ball of hate, in general, of herself, of everything. It's like Gritch is finding these little trinkets, hidden in a poorly locked up, shoddy chest, which it's all to easy to just kick open and sift through, while a poor little girl, pretty, scared, innocent, sobs in the corner.
  • Brilliant.

    Just as you seem to conclude your business, a loud shot echoes from off toward The Chateau, closer than you'd like to think. Sounds like a shotgun blast. Just one. Strangely, there's no birds, no animals at all that stir in the area. It's like the shot just seems to echo and continue to do so for a long while until it finally disappears.

    Mimi turns to head inside, drawing the keys from her pocket.

    "Good luck, Gritch."

    She heads in and you hear the keys lock the door behind her.
  • (Just a quick question, because I'm curious for flavor purposes. Do people know when I deep brain scan them? I take it from your description that they don't, which is fine with me. I think I had been just assuming they did know, but at the same time, I like the idea that they don't know just as much. Furthermore, do you think people know about my violation glove? What it lets me do? Same reasoning, if they did know, they'd get fearful any time I put it on, whereas if they don't know, well, SURPRISE! I'm cool either way, and I think we're going the SURPRISE way right now, but let me know what you thought.)
  • I'm going with the assumption that it works like reading someone, they generally won't know you're doing it unless it's blatantly obvious, or alternatively if you miss the roll (and therefore inflict harm) they'll probably know you're doing something to them. Some might know about your glove, but it is high-tech, so the average person probably won't.

    What do you think? How do you envision it working?
  • "Ayep," I say, to no one in partic'lar.

    Got my work cut out for me.

    I just hope that that shot didn't involve Navarre. Feller's probably not gonna be as easy to talk to, if he's just got to shootin' someone. Because I know damn well, if there's only one shot, and that shot did involve Navarre, then he wasn't the one bein' shot at.

    Welp, today's gonna be interestin'.

    I head into the Chateau proper, wending my way through the fog along the dirty paths, lookin' for Barker, so's I can find Navarre at his posting for the day.
  • (I'm fine with that description. They don't know I'm doing it, unless there's some absolutely obvious element, like them being tied to a table and me doing the Vulcan mindmeld to their face. And I'm fine with that being an added, interesting element to the failure of the roll, that it makes it immediately obvious what I was trying to do. I'm also now totally a fan of the idea that not everyone knows what my violation glove does, but those who DO know...well, they've got plenty of reason to be afraid of it.)

    (I think that Gritch is the type who casually invades minds without difficulty, so he wouldn't go all crazy-eyed or weird when he's doing it, unless he's doing it without the violation glove, in which case it would likely be kinda obvious, anyway. He probably has trained himself not to betray anything while he's doing it, though, if he can avoid it. I also figure it happens pretty instantaneously, with the violation glove at least.)

    (This is all probably important for how he works, too, because he can convince people he's a psychic by casually touching them with the glove, reading their mind, and regurgitating their deepest secrets. Won't make 'em happy, but it will convince them that he can do what he says he can do, and all without being obvious or making their eyes bleed or anything. Hopefully.)
  • Sounds great. I dig it. Let's roll with it.

    I wanna give Uncle some time to post, so let's pause up there and see what happens with him before we move on to you getting to Barker.
  • Let's switch it up. You're in the other thread now.
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