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Timekeeper     Thank goodness there's a warpgate in Chicago now. Technically, you're meant to have to register with the St. Pavlov Foundation to come through this warpgate into the world as well, in order to control the multiversal presence on this Earth and keep reasonable documenation of who's doing what, but... since it's not actually inside the Foundation campus like the one at LSCC, it's a lot easier to slip under the radar. With TTT's help, Vertin has a window of time where the Chicago warpgate is unmonitored, and that's shared with the Watch for an hour or so of unrecorded meeting in the Windy City of 1928.

    The path there is convoluted, several hops away from any proper centralized hub, climbing out of a cellar in an old wild western town, across a short ferry trip to a postal office with another warpgate that leads to a neon-cyberpunk city. A taxi down the street there brings you to the plot of undeveloped land that Bond purchased after the expeditionary mission to discover the newly formed natural warpgate above the ground, now accessible via staircase. Going through that leads to the abandoned wing of the Chicago Ford car factory, stepping onto an assembly line that's now disconnected from the electricity grid. The wide open factory floor is only lit by dim daylight filtering through high up dusty windows, and every exit is cordoned off with 'DANGER: HIGH RISK ARCANE ANOMALY! ENTRY RESTRICTED BY THE ST. PAVLOV FOUNDATION'. A series of small, futuristic (for the 20's) lights on the floor guide Foundation employees (or perfidious Watchmen) to a side door, where they can surreptitiously exit from the factory and enter Chicago.

    The city is overcast and deary, muggy with rain that hasn't fallen yet in the early afternoon. Vertin is leaning against a graffiti'd wall, hat brim down while they type away on a personal transponder, until lifting their head up to expose their eyes when the other Watchmen approach. They stow the transponder away in their waistcoat, stand up, and take their diamond-patterned suitcase in their hand.
Timekeeper     "Thank you for coming. My apologies for the tight timeframe, but it's unavoidable until the warpgate in my suitcase is completed." Moving on to business after the brief pleasantry, they go on, "The unification specialist I contacted found and briefed some local organizations here in 1928 on the Watch in order to begin the construction of a cell in this era. I'd like to meet them in person as well, of course, but there's several details on our involvement that I have to make clear before that."

    "Firstly: the St. Pavlov Foundation is not to be mentioned in any capacity related to ourselves, not as my employer or as an organization you're personally familiar with. Secondly: under no circumstances, at this point in time, can they be told about the Storm. The Watch's involvement is political organization and activism-- which is true, of course, but the Chicago cell won't know of our ultimate goal with the Storm. Not yet."

    It's nearly imperceptible, mostly interpreted from the way their hand comes up to slide pinched fingers along the brim of their top hat uselessly, but there's a small amount of discomfort that Vertin seems to feel at saying that. They look to the side, to the street outside the alleyway, where the occasional Model T painstakingly works its way through the pedestrians walking all across the street.

    "My efforts to establish a Watch cell may seem superfluous, in a Chicago that will cease to exist when the Storm arrives in two years, but I have my reasoning. I haven't made my report to the Foundation about this yet, but I've been informed that the critical point of the next Storm will be in America-- that is to say, the centerpoint and source of the Storm syndrome will originate in this area. Manus Vindictae must have a method to know this in advance as well. This era, I'd like to keep pace with them, if not stay one step ahead."

    Vertin's eyes slide back to the other Elites. "The people we'll be meeting are telephone operators based in the central office of the Ainsworth Chicago neighborhood. One of them is an Awakened arcanist, the others are human. Is there anything else before we introduce ourselves?"
Odette Raskins Heading through a series of hubs to avoid detection is already starting to feel familiar for Odette even though this is only the third or fourth time she's done this. She's dressed to (hopefully) blend in with late 20's Chicago, too, donning a cheap trench coat that's purposely been thrown at a dusty wall a few times to force in some of that old-looking grime right onto it. Some old work boots and a brown cap tie it all together, and she's ready to slink her way around to get to the factory!

"Thanks for calling us, Miss Vertin. Everyone get here okay?" Odette's voice comes out in a quiet whisper at first as she greets Vertin and everyone with a quick, stiff wave, one hand pulling the front of her trench coat open slightly so she can show off the medical case held closely against her side. "No injuries, no.. Um. Did they have any weird diseases around in this era...?"

Shaking off the distractions, the EMT listens closely as Vertin lays out the details for working int his era. "So as far as anyone else needs to know, we're just snazzily-dressed locals... Mhm, okay. Two years to lay that groundwork, then... Do we need to learn the lingo and accents for here, too? Like the ones in the gangster movies?"

She looks a little excited about that idea, holding her breath for a moment in the hopes that Vertin answers in the affirmative.

"The people we're meeting... Do they have any tics we should be wary of? Like... To not scare them off or anything, you know?" A pause, and then she adds, "Also, what's coming up two years from now? Or... Is it better that we not know if we don't already?"
Rita Ma      Rita wasn't queasy on the ride over, but she's a bit queasy now. She understands Vertin's reasons, intuitively: news spreads, and chaos will only serve Manus Vindictae. No way to prevent the Storm has yet been found, and these telephone operators' efforts are unlikely to change that.

     "The Watch is a network of trust, Ms. Timekeeper. I don't mind not talking about the Foundation, but you're asking us to keep it secret from them that they're going to die," she says while looking off to the side. It's a restatement of gravity; not an accusation quite.

     "When exactly is 'not yet'? How are we going to use these people in a way that'll benefit themselves, too? You need to have an answer for me. And it needs to be an answer that wouldn't break their trust."

     Deep breath. With distaste, but not entirely dismissive: "We'll have to restrict their communications, too. Treat them like a high-security cell. Other people in the Watch know about the Storm, after all."

     Then her thumb settles the strap of her bag on her shoulder, an uneasy signal that she's ready to go. Daring knee-length skirt aside, her typical shirt-and-jacket outfit actually doesn't fit too poorly in the 1920s.
Regulus Regulus is enjoying getting to do some work in the suitcase, lately, but that's not all! Recently Vertin said she did a GOOD JOB (selling out Madeleine) so she's feeling pretty good about herself. The band feels like it's really coming along, like, they're even taking it seriously! She knows because everybody brought instruments, making Regulus's outings to ''obtain'' instruments a huge waste of time! But she has soothed her soul by telling herself that means everybody is HELLA INTO the band idea! And she's only heard good things about her website (she is ignoring the bad things she's heard about her website). AND she had finally finished installing the satellite disk her BEST MATE Vertin asked her to install. The sweet sweet feeling of a hard job done well fills her soul. And it WAS hard, because it was Regulus's first look at arcane disks so it involved a lot of trial and error and nobody needs to know how close a call it was to get it done by today.

And so even though she dark circles around her eyes and she's plum exhausted, she's honestly excited to visit Chicago. She heard that jazz was born in new orleans but it grew up in Chicago. Maybe she can convince Vertin to take a little detour to the South side.

Naturally, she pops out of the suitcase shortly after arrival. She really DID just finish installing it.

"Hm hm hm... I'm a geniuis, Vertin! I got it all set up just like you asked." She pushes up her shades. It's 0 miles to Chicago, she doesn't have any gas, she has no cigarettes, it's dark and gloomy but she is wearing sunglasses despite the weather so she feels she's all prepared.

"Aye aye, Vertin." Regulus is glad Vertin's a two syllable name because SHE is the captain but Vertin is also the master of her method of conveyance so it's still appropriate to aye aye her. It sounds best with a two syllable followup.

"Two years? That's hardly any time at all." Regulus says, though she supposes for the people of this era they still had their whole lives here. "You can count on us!"

APPLe floats near Regulus, holding an umbrella with one of his stick finger arms over Regulus's head. "Oh--hello again, Odette. How have you been? It has been some time since we talked over the radio band, but thank you for helping my captain with her dreams." He must also mean the band.

Does she have any questions? She thinks for a moment, looking up at the sky. At least she's tilting her head back a bit.

"So you're hoping that having a Watch Cell here will help us get the drop on Manus Vindictae, who will be busy watching the Foundation, do I've got that right?"

She spots Rita, "Rita! Good to see you made it, chum!"

Though Rita brings up a good point. They aren't just gonna use these people and leave them to die right? "Mm... Well, maybe we can see what they want when we get there. Even if we can't save them from the Storm, we can help them in other ways."
Hibiki Tachibana     Joke's on the St. Pavlov Foundation. Even if Hibiki wasn't a multiversal vigilante, she's /terrible/ with registering and reasonable documentation of just about anything. ...Actually, that just makes it good for them that they don't have to deal with her bullshit. Nevermind.

    Thankfully, on the other hand she's the master of walking anywhere she needs to go - so once the whole ordeal of a journey to get here is over with and she's stepping out of the factory and into Chicago proper, she's more checking the surroundings to ensure there's not more hoops to jump than anything else. "...Made it. Yeah, looks like everything's fine," she offhands to Odette as they all get together, before staring at her a little better. "I like the outfit."

    This is one of the few times Hibiki has bothered to somewhat dress contemporary; it's nothing fancier than a brown jacket and black pants replacing her usual, along with a newsboy-style cap, but it's something. Even she knows that 2050s casual in 1920s Chicago would be a bit eye-drawing. Plus, it helps make her feel like the experienced Watchman she sort-of-is-sort-of-isn't.

    "No, I think I get what you're going for," she mentions to Vertin once everything is laid out. "We'll help them out however we can. And along the way, learn what we can about the Storm that's going to start here, before it arrives... and make sure the Manus Vindictae don't get ahead and take advantage of things themselves." She's never gotten a full briefing on the Manus Vindictae, but she got the 'return to the era of philosopher kings and alchemists' and intuitively processed a vague idea of their vibes, given she's familiar with... well, the Illuminati.

    "...That said..." Turning her head to look straight at Vertin, rather than around them, there's an air of her having the same flash of discomfort that Vertin also failed to entirely hide, in the form of a furrowed brow. "..." There's a silent, unblinking stare held for a moment, and then her eyes close. "...Even if I get why, I'm not a fan of leaving them in the dark about the Storm," with a hang at the end that almost makes it sound like she was going to add 'either' to the end of that.

    "...But I can't imagine you haven't thought about that back and forth plenty yourself," she adds on after a sigh, that sounds sympathetic more than anything. "I'm gonna trust that 'not yet' means exactly that. ...I'd be happy if we could find a way to stop this Storm from showing up... or at least..." The grimace returns, before she shakes her head to clear things up. "...But that's getting way ahead of things. No, I'm ready to go anytime."
Distortion Dets.     Events of late have Moses' Office vying more to reconnect with multiversal contacts- strange encounters with monstrous beings in the City other than Distortions, and strong rumors about the dregs of the former L-corp- but ever one to be too proud and stubborn to crawl back onto radio lines out of the blue, Detective Moses has, instead, decided she will be attending whatever the next call for aid her assistant informs her of- which is here, and now, to collaborate with, as Ezra has informed her in her own words, 'a polite and smarty-pants newcomer who keeps time' (or so she's heard).

    Thus, Moses, and her intrepid sidekick Ezra, depart on a rare multiversal jaunt across myriad little enclaves of different worlds, dusty, rainy, quiet and busy, until they finally emerge in the midst of the factory floor, and Chicago beyond it. Moses almost stumbles on the floor-tracks of the assembly line, and catches herself, with Ezra already halfway to grabbing her to keep her from falling- she's waved off, and, to re-save face, Moses comments idly, "Hm, to think YuRia wanted to stay behind- Ezra, perhaps she'd come next time if you told her about the strange, empty factory here. Make a note?" "Mmgrm. But Detective, it's quieter and calmer without her, and she's- just let her stay back!" "Mm. Make a note." "But Detective-" A Look makes Ezra relent, and scribble something out on a post-it note yoinked from one of her many many pockets, pouting.
Distortion Dets.     With the humidity pressing in, the tobacco smoke Detective Moses inhales, despite its tar, seems thinner and lighter on her lungs than the summer air- the trailing notes of coal smog present in such an industrial part of the city, however, is what she's trying and failing to drown out. Dressed as-ever in a loose, buttoned-up blouse, high-waisted pinstripe trousers, and a formal coat worn only as a shoulder-cape, the ornate long-stemmed smoking pipe that sits ever at her lips is more striking than the woman's tired face- short, formal, and soured attitude, the Detective is a perfect juxtaposition to her assistant, Ezra- towering, younger, cheery-faced, dressed in a well-loved and patch-covered jacket, and spending time along the journey ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the strange sights of another world.

    "'Timekeeper', was it? We haven't met." Moses reluctantly pulls the pipe from her lips to speak, "Though, I do think I recognize some of these other associates." "Yep-yep, yep! That's li'l Odette, the medic girl, Detective, and uhhhh... Oh! That's the singing one!" "Mm. Thank you, Ezra. I remembered, however. Regardless- Detective Moses, Fixer of the City, and my assistant, Ezra, also a Fixer." "Grade Three~! Don't leave out how cool I am, I want to make a good impression, too-!"

    Moses sighs, shakes her head, and puts the pipe back in her mouth. There's a moment where it looks like she'll offer Vertin a hand to shake, and instead, her hand pulls a metal lighter from a pocket to reignite the tobacco in her pipe's bowl.

'Secondly: under no circumstances, at this point in time, can they be told about the Storm. '

    The gist of that disaster, in useful-enough dossiers, has since made it to Moses' desk to overview before coming- a temporal apocalypse, so far impossible to stop, and quite recently having altered much about this specific world. Without relation to the disaster, or the histories of this world, it rings empty to the pair of Fixers how to quantify its harm, but similarly, not speaking of it won't be a problem- as Moses' silence, and Ezra's hair-bobbing nodding communicates as well.

'The people we'll be meeting are telephone operators based in the central office of the Ainsworth Chicago neighborhood.'

    Moses raises up an eyebrow. "A spy network it'll be, then? Resourceful as a starting point. An entire group, already? Were they prior affiliated?" With lighter still in-hand, Moses clicks it on and off a few times, for no apparent reason- occasionally letting it stay on until a breeze snuffs it out- Vertin may cover their face quite often with the brim of their hat, but Moses isn't one to often notice- no matter who she looks at, she's seeing something else. As Vertin carries on talking, Moses is, silently, assessing the bits of abstracted motifs she sees around her, to form her own opinion of the St. Pavlov Foundation's rules-skirting Timekeeper. "Mm. One might almost think you'd done this before."
Distortion Dets. 'Two years? That's hardly any time at all.'

    Moses turns to look at Regulus, barely even side-eyed.

"Mm. No, it's much longer than you'd think. A death two years away is something empty; it could very well be tomorrow. That's far more than can be taken for granted."
"...Detective..?"
"Mm? Something to add?"
"Well- no, not really, but Detective, do you gotta say it like that??"
"'Like that'? I don't understand."
"...Like, you know... 'that'?"
"Articulate, or don't waste air, Ezra. How many times do I have to say that?"
"Ack- none times, I hear you! I'm letting it go. Pssh, bam, there, I let it go, and it fell to the ground all ka-crack, and that's it-!" Ezra caps it off with a rushed thumbs-up gesture.
"Mm."
Liza Grier     'Thank you for coming.'

    "Wouldn't be much of a Watch if we didn't." says Liza, who had her pick of several assignments today to meet her prosocial Elite-wrangling quota, and went for one that involved touching a time period nearly as far from hers as possible. "Everyone here should know how short-handed we are on the 'legwork' type is in this field, so if they've got any decency, they'll be glad someone is doing it for them, and try to show some support. Or at least, they better damn well." Voiced more emphatically, this would be an unsubtle cattle prod to the group dynamic that is nevertheless within the socially acceptable bounds of encouragement. Spoken neutrally, it whiplashes strangely into approval.

    Despite the staggering gap in timeframe, Liza has adapted to the period well enough. Vast and clumsily regulated sprawls of manufacturing rubbing shoulders with illegal but tacitly unauthorized bars, soldered together with webs of money and lines of communication that have grown too fast to be organized; these things characterize the station she spent an appreciable portion of her adult life on as well as they do Chicago of the here and now, and many other stations beside it.

    She doesn't even have to look hard to get half of her old quasilegal bartender fit together, even, and the stechkin she's mysteriously fond of doesn't look out of place at all with a leather holster. She happens to have a more subtle 'undercover' design for her wrist computer from forever ago, coincidentally looking like a watch from about this era. She keeps her hair short with regularity anyways, and a little bit of machine oil on her is hardly out of place. Her brimmed hat is nowhere near Vertin's power level, though.

    Though she can throw her chameleon suit on over as a loose coat and dial it to copy someone on the street, it annoys her very mildly that she can't get away with any form of hardsuit, helmet or otherwise; Liza isn't averse to feminine clothes, and has worn them before, but this era's dresses just don't agree. She folds her work gloves into the belt of her pants instead to at least present the idea she might work at a factory, and moves on with it.

    'Firstly:...

    "Standard stuff." Liza says, more or less approvingly. "No one's gonna want to buy into a Watch cell they can even squint at to see a government flunkie. And there's no point talking about the rest."

    'I don't mind not talking about the Foundation, but you're asking us to keep it secret from them that they're going to die,'

    Liza looks over to Rita as if she'd like to uncross her arms for some reason, and instead decides only to say, "Well. They don't die if we figure out the Storm in the next two years. Yeah?" She makes a rare uneasy expression, and then readjusts her posture to be a little taller. "Even if it's a longshot, it's not exactly impossible. No point in going into this like our hand is already a wash, only focusing on the next round."

    "At least, if we make sacrifices thinking 'they're dead men walking anyways' and then turn out to be wrong, we'll be the assholes. So I'd prefer we operate assuming we have a shot at winning right now."
Timekeeper "I got it all set up just like you asked."

    After Regulus pops out of it, Vertin re-buckles the suitcase shut with a pleasant smile on her face. It didn't used to be so common for people to pop in and out of her suitcase, but it's oddly comforting to have it more populated than before. "Thank you, Regulus. I'll have to see what's gotten TTT and yourself so excited soon enough. Hello as well, APPLe," She offers him in passing.

"Two years? That's hardly any time at all."

    Vertin nods. "Your era lasted less than eighteen months, if that puts it into perspective. As you did, they'll have memories of their entire lives as usual up until the beginning of the era-- really, the 'beginning of the era' is something only we outside the Storm observe. To them, it is merely that 'the world ends in two years'."

"Did they have any weird diseases around in this era...?"

    Vertin dips her head in greeting at Odette, but the first words out of her mouth are "Tuberculosis, polio, and the remnants of the Spanish Flu epidemic from the last decade. All dealt with via vaccinations, if you've received them. There's also numerous diseases transmitted by the poor water quality in cities this era-- I've packed some bottled water, but we won't be sticking around long enough for it to matter."

    It's hard to say whether this is a personal fixation of theirs, or whether it was included in the briefing of the era for field agents.

"Also, what's coming up two years from now?"

    "Nothing so precise." Vertin shakes their head. "Eras have historically lasted one year to two, or nearly three in one case. I'm preparing for it to be roughly the same time before the next Storm. I have no knowledge on what event might cause it yet."

"Everyone here should know how short-handed we are on the 'legwork' type is in this field, so if they've got any decency, they'll be glad someone is doing it for them, and try to show some support."

    "It's hardly legwork I've done alone," Vertin agrees by way of deflection. Liza's someone they haven't had a chance to meet in person yet, so she's offered a handshake, though Vertin doesn't seem particularly attached to the formality.
Timekeeper "You need to have an answer for me. And it needs to be an answer that wouldn't break their trust."
"...Even if I get why, I'm not a fan of leaving them in the dark about the Storm,"

    As tense as Vertin looks about the topic (that being, 'barely at all'), they're also relieved that someone asked. It is, almost certainly, a topic they thought through to completion before even beginning this process with the Watch at all.

    "Right. Currently, there is not a single place in the multiverse we are aware of where a human inhabitant of this world can survive the Storm besides the Foundation itself. My ideal outcome is that these people can all be in the Foundation when that time comes: I do not intend to abandon them to the Storm when it comes."

    "However, the only way to ensure that happens is to utilize them in a way that makes the Foundation *want* to shelter them. That means, aside from the involvement of the Watch, skirting closely enough to the rules that their violation does not cause them to be rejected by the Foundation outright. By establishing them as useful and cooperative assets within the bounds of field investigator guidelines-- to the Foundation's knowledge, that is-- I believe they will have the best chances. I don't ask people to help me without intending to help them in return."

    Vertin folds their arms across their chest, eyes locked on Hibiki and Rita. Their expression isn't challenging or defensive for the questions, but piercingly attentive to whether they approve or not.

    "I also plan on providing them pay and resources from my own suitcase. Establishing it as a Watchhouse enables me to act as an in-between for many of our suppliers and funnel resources where they'll be needed the most, and for what the Watch can't provide, I will do what I can on my own. Is there anything else you'd suggest?"

    They hesitate, fingers running down the lapel of their waistcoat. "Asides, the Watch is a network of trust, but it's also a network of informational security. The only way for one cell's destruction to not lead to a cascade of compromised operatives is to keep from telling everyone every entire story. Trust that I have their, as well as all of our, best interests in mind."

"...I'd be happy if we could find a way to stop this Storm from showing up..."

    Vertin's small smile after all of that talking about the inevitability of the Storm feels more bittersweet than anything. "As would I."

    Then they shake their head incrementally, dipping their chin to briefly hide their eyes. "No, Liza's right. While I can't see an end to the Storm happening this era, that's no reason to think of people as being already doomed to their fate. That's how the Manus operate. I hope to not only save people from the Storm, but to improve their lives in the time before it happens as well."
Timekeeper "'Timekeeper', was it? We haven't met."

    "A pleasure, Detective, Ezra." Vertin offers out her hand automatically, and when it's not taken, she lowers it back down to her side without a change in expression. "I've done some research into the City-- Grade Three is actually quite high, from what I've heard. My own assistant is involved with the Trideag Association, though she likely won't be assisting the Watch's efforts herself."

    For someone named 'Timekeeper', Moses might expect the gaudy symbolism of a clock or hourglass to be predominant in her image. Instead, it's a wide, unblinking eye that stares back at her with unreadable passivity, light gleaming off of the iris like the full moon. The eye is static, almost painted-feeling, but it's given externalized expressivity in the form of tenebrious stormclouds clinging to her head and drifting in front of the eye on a leaden, unfelt wind to occlude it. A faint string of ghostly red, shuddering numbers, too long to grasp a digit value but inexorably finite, ticks down second by second in the moon's reflection.

"An entire group, already? Were they prior affiliated?"

    Vertin nods shortly. "As a 'group', there's only the few of them that were already employed by the telephone company in this neighborhood before the era began. I'm not certain of the unification specialists methods, but I agree with their results-- from what I'm told, they're all predisposed to 'working on the side' already, and are politically aligned. Of course, the Watch wasn't a known factor until now, but they have the interest and talents for a larger network as-is."

    They raise up a finger, curling it forwards pointedly. "The plan is to cast an information network over the entirety of Chicago, in order to keep an eye on the Manus Vindictae's movements ideally before they make them. Unless necessary, we won't meet with any of those secondary street-level accomplices, to minimize their knowledge of us and the threat of retaliation from the Manus. But the Ainsworth office is perfectly situated to be a starting place, particularly due to the arcane skill of the Awakened operator working here, as well as some existing connections to organized crime."

    With that being everyone's comments out of the way, Vertin turns and leads the way further down the alley. An iron door in the non-streetfacing side of the industrial brick building, likely for smoking or janitorial purposes, is where they stop, rapping their knuckles against it a couple times before opening it and heading inside.
Timekeeper     This is, very obviously, not a particularly highly trafficked telephone exchange. Ainsworth is a small and relatively less-wealthy neighborhood, so compared to the big Central exchange of Chicago, it's a much more modest operation. A single run-down but cared for room, with one door on one wall that leads to an accounting office, and one to a makeshift apartment with a bed for overnight workers. The bathroom is down the hall, shared with another company in the same building.

    The large switchboard set up against the wall is the largest feature in the room, but only three of the five women inside are sitting at it. There's a range of ages, but it's surprisingly binary: two of the girls are obviously teenagers, with one nervous-looking one working the switches who can't be older than an underfed fourteen, and two more are in their thirties. The last one, the most animated of them, appears at first glance to be splitting the difference in her mid-twenties, but on second glance when she turns around she's clearly not human at all.

    Short red and gold hair is tucked underneath an operator's headset that fully obscures where her ears would be if she had them. One side is attached via several cables to a chunky device that looks like a portable switchboard, placed on the desk in front of her-- the other side of the headset has a side-ponytail in wiry red-gold sprouting right out of it, as part of her head. Clipped on the front of her blouse is an old-timey microphone shaped like a horn, and she scoops up the 'portable switchboard' into her arms-- impossibly, not connected to the one built into the wall-- and stands.

    With a wide smile, she starts talking, but even though her lips are moving, no sound at all comes out. After a few seconds, she realizes this with a flustered look, holds up one finger for 'just a moment', and then pulls a switchboard wire out of her headset, extruding to its full length like it was coiled up inside of her head. After she plugs it into the microphone on her blouse, she huffs a sigh of embarrassment, and then she's properly audible.

    "Aw, horsefeathers. Ahoy there! You must be those Watch folks we're expecting, right?" With the switchboard cradled in her other arm like a baby, she lifts a hand in a friendly wave. "Name's Bellwhistle! I'm, ah, an Awakened, but don't fret about it! You can just chat with me like anyone else."

    Below the hem of her skirt and out of the sleeves of her blouse, her limbs are a shell of pale-painted metal around visible old-timey hinges and pistons in her joints like a skeleton. She pauses for a second after introducing herself, clicks a switch that lights up on her device, then says in a chipper customer-service tone, "Number, please? ... Alright, putting you through!" She extends another cable out of her head-set and plugs it into the switchboard... which surely shouldn't actually work, electronically.

    "That's right. I'm Vertin--" Vertin doesn't get halfway through her opening sentence before the older women sitting in some lounge chairs to rest gasp and shoot up to their feet, rushing over to her. "My! What an adorable getup!" "And that accent! Are you English, dearie?"

    With a perfectly straight expression despite being swarmed around by several older women, Vertin nods and just continues talking while she's poked at like a breadcrumb by pigeons. "Thank you. I'm Vertin, along with other members of the Watch. I thought it prudent to establish a rapport with you in person."

    While the older of the women puts her hands on her cheeks and squeals about 'establish a *rapport*, goodness!!', Bellwhistle introduces them. "Well, as you know, I'm Bellwhistle, that's Evie there and Doris besides her, and then there's Margaret and Ruth working the switches right now."
Odette Raskins "When exactly is 'not yet'?"

Odette feels a small pang of guilt as she hears Rita's question, even if she's not the one being asked that question. The fact that the question didn't even spring up in her mind seems to be visibly bothering her, and she doesn't quite know what to do with that feeling.

Vertin's answer helps ease her mind visibly, at least, although she still isn't sure how to process the lingering discomfort in her chest. Odette opens her mouth, closes it, tries to roll that thought through her brain in any kind of satisfactory way, then  clams up for a few more seconds before finally greeting Rita with a meekly-uttered "Hi, Miss Rita. Um. When... Later, when you're free and super bored, could I... Pick your brain about some things?"

"Oh--hello again, Odette."

Hearing APPLe addressing her directly also pulls Odette out of her funk, but mostly from the surprise at suddenly hearing him so close by. "Ah! O-oh, h.. Hey, Mister APPLe. I-I've been good!" She blurts out quickly at first, avoiding direct eye(?) contact as she looks slightly above and to the side of where APPLe actually is. "I mean, it's business as usual, you know? Triage on the field, figuring out how we can save more people here once the next Storm hits, and getting in a bit of practice for the band..."

She pantomimes tapping on some drums, only feeling slightly silly about not having a prop in either hand. "What about you? Work, dreams, anything like that?"

"I like the outfit."

Hibiki gets a grin from Odette as the EMT turns slightly to give her a slightly angled view of the trench coat while placing a hand across the brim of her cap. "Hehe... Thanks, Hibiki. I got it out of a vending machine! It was a little too sterile-looking before I really broke it in, but I made sure to spray it down so it's not.. Like. Actually a hazard."

"That's li'l Odette, the medic girl,"

After blinking away a moment of confusion, Odette raises her hand to greet the detectives with a quick wave and tip of her hat that conveniently keeps her from holding eye contact for too long. "H-hello, Detective Moses. Hey, Miss Ezra. Any.. Um. Tips on looking more hard-boiled with this?" She asks , gesturing at her dusty-in-spots trench coat that's still clearly new (and cheap) around the edges.

She subtly stands a little more on her toes, to try and look just slightly taller than Hibiki.

"So I'd prefer we operate assuming we have a shot at winning right now."

That gets a thoughtful look out of Odette as she glances over at the case at her hip, feeling it through the outside of her coat idly. "... Miss Liza's right. If we push forward like they're going to die anyway, then that... It'd save me a whole lot of meds, but it wouldn't sit right for me even if it IS a lot easier. I want to make sure as many people can see whatever happens in 1930, 31, and whatever else comes after that."

She sounds hopeful, like someone who truly has no idea what's coming next.

"All dealt with via vaccinations, if you've received them."

"Got it, got it, and... Uh. Hm. Probably got it?" Odette doesn't sound so sure about the Spanish Flu. Was that called something else in the vaccination program? Instead of wrestling with her memory any further, she just nods shortly afterwards and smiles confidently at Vertin in return. "Sounds like we're covered, then. I've got some energy drinks, too, and nothing like those could survive in these cans."

She sounds so proud about drink packaging at that moment.
Odette Raskins "I have no knowledge on what event might cause it yet."
"The plan is to cast an information network over the entirety of Chicago"

"Could be anything, then.. Okay. W-we'll just have to keep an eye on anything that might get people really riled up. And with a network going all over Chicago... Yeah, they should be great for being our ears on the ground." Odette nods slowly, pursing her lips again as she considers the rough timeline given. "One to three years... That's plenty of time to make headway on the Storm and getting them into the Foundation."

Following Vertin into the alley, Odette keeps her eyes peeled as she often does, paranoid as ever that there still might be someone watching the group. She's not sure what to look for besides 'masked strangers', though, and she's soon heading inside with the Timekeepr.

Of the women inside, the one with the chunky headset naturally grabs the medic's attention. After a brief giggle at seeing her little flub with the audio, Odette gerets the group with a polite bow at the waist while taking her cap off now that she's inside. "Hello there! The name's Odette. That sounds just fine, Miss Bellwhistle," she greets, speaking with the slightest hint of a country accent that isn't anything like how she normally sounds.

Seeing Vertin getting mobbed, Odette turns her head slightly to try (and fail) to hide another amused giggle before finally turning back to the gathering. "Miss Evie, Miss Doris, Miss Margaret, and Miss Ruth... Good to meet you all. This is a comms network, then?" She asks while peering at Bellwhistle's device curiously, following the cables with her eyes to try and make sense of the switchboard.

"Neat... Ah, so. What's the situation like around here? Are there any situations that y.. You all need help with, since we're all here?"
Regulus ''It's much longer than you'd think.''

Regulus freezes in place like a cat just startled enough to not run off, her head slowly creaks overt o look at Moses. "Y..yeah? But nobody really expects to die tommorow, usually, yeah?" Then her mind rewinds a bit and she says, "Oh!! Wait, your friend said she was from The City, right? So you're from The City too?" This seems to explain everything to Regulus on the matter of how far away two years is though she wrinkles her nose in thought because she just said 'The City' in Chicago like that. she glances then back to Ezra in a small doubletake. Tall...

"It's gone forever..." She says ot play along with the bit but APPLe adds a, "Too true, an apple never knows if they'll ripen to old age or be consumed tomorrow."

Regulus pats APPLe on the top of his ... apple. "Don't worry, first mate, wherever we sail we'll sail together."

The APPLe in question apple bobs a greeting to Vertin as well.

"Say, Vertin, do you trade secrets with TTT as well now that you mention?"

Regulus is uncertain how she feels about informing people about the Storm and not informing them. On the one hand, if she knew about the Storm she probably wouldn't have been so eager to run away from her would be rescuers, but on the other hand would she really have appreciated knowing in advance? She's not sure. She'd be relieved that Vertin was hoping to lead them to the safety of the Foundation but she expected that Vertin would do that, that's the kind of person Vertin is after all! She didn't even think to examine it!

"Right you are, Vertin. I'd feel a right heel if my big mouth cut off their escape route."

But then she blinks. "You have a salary that can pay all these people, Vertin?"

It's hard for her to imagine that the STorm would be stopped in two years time but it would be nice. Maybe if they can stop it she can find her way back home. She just hopes it doesn't take her as long as old Odysseus!

Hm hm hm, she already helped too with that, Regulus thinks. Maybe she can talk to Madeleine again and learn a bit more about what Manus Vindictae is up to. She didn't seem too informed on them when they last talked but if she works hard then eventually when this gets back around to the Paladins she'll be able to say 'see? I did so much to help AND I made a super cool website!'. She hopes they aren't going to be too jealous!

Setting aside, for a moment, the eggs she's counting well before they hatched, she looks to Hibiki, "Looking snazzy, Hibikibbles. Really matching the vibe, love."

''What about you? Work, dreams, anything like that?''

"Oh the Captain has been having me read up on the history of Chicago in this era though it really is my pleasure to delve into the tomes of such a vaunted cultural era. Louis Armstrong, King Oliver, many of the great jazz artists were at their height in this era, and in this place." APPle floats around lazily. "And of course, a first mate's job looking after their captain is a full time job in of itself."

That might be Regulus specific but he isn't overtly saying that.

''Name's Bellwhistle!''

"APPLe, charmed to meet you, Miss Bellwhistle." He is also an Awakened so he isn't troubled by this at all.
Regulus Neither is Regulus, really, "Well hello there, Bellwhistle! The name's Regulus, radio pirate and--" She pauses, she was about to say dj but that term hasn't come around yet soinstead she adds, "--proud member of Vertin's team! Nice to meet you all. Doris, Evie, Margaret, and Ruth too!"

''My! What an adorable getup!''

"Mhm mhm! Vertin's got a fab and far out style, that's for sure." She is pleased that Vertin is getting fussed over like this.
Hibiki Tachibana     However, the only way to ensure that happens is to utilize them in a way that makes the Foundation *want* to shelter them.
    I don't ask people to help me without intending to help them in return.

    I hope to not only save people from the Storm, but to improve their lives in the time before it happens as well.

    Well, if it was approval that Vertin was searching for, she'll find ample amounts of it on Hibiki's face now, along with a bit less tension than she walked in with. After a moment of seeming to think over her words, she nods. "...If that's how it is, you won't hear any complaints from me. I'll follow your lead, Vertin."

    She subtly stands a little more on her toes, to try and look just slightly taller than Hibiki.

    Hibiki gives Odette a glance as they go, before looking down to her feet for whatever reason, raising an eyebrow.

    ...

    "...Ah, yeah. That'd be us. Nice t--" She's at least been around the block enough to not be surprised overlong at Bellwhistle's deal, merely happy enough that she got over that brief communication hiccup. If anything, she's caught more off-guard - and equally cut off - by the energy that all the other members of the telephone operator crew assault Vertin with.

    She blinks a few times. "...Wow. I'd say we're pretty far along on that rapport establishing already... I think you've got a way with people, Vertin." After covering her mouth, maybe or maybe not to hide a small upturn of her lips along with a little cough, she nods to Bellwhistle.

    "...Hibiki. Glad we all get to meet in person." As an add-on to Odette's questioning, "I'd also want to hear about what you've managed here already, before we got in touch with each other." Her focus shifts to the two manning the switches, a concerned furrow of her brow at the particularly waifish one, before she continues.

    "...How long've you all been at this?" Ostensibly, she means both the group's work here at the exchange, and also their 'working on the side'.
Rita Ma      "No point in going into this like our hand is already a wash..."
     Rita of course comfortably gravitates near Liza's side, but if Liza won't uncross her arms, doesn't do more than that. "You're right," she says, smiling a little sheepishly. "I guess I'm still messed up by seeing the last one."

     Seeing it, of course, makes it harder to imagine 'fixing' it. She nods unhappily at Vertin, who understands.

     "Good to see you made it, chum!"
     Rita, with her shrimp-fried brain, stares at Regulus vaguely aghast. "Made what chum?? I didn't--!"

     "... Oh. Right. Um, good to see you too. That's Ms. Regulus, Ms. Grier. She's nice," she burbles, winding herself back down.

     "However, the only way to ensure that happens is to utilize them in a way that makes the Foundation *want* to shelter them..."

     Rita inclines her head forward. "Making them cooperate with the government without them knowing is... fine, looking at the other options. Thank you for thinking this through, Ms. Timekeeper. I can think of alternatives if it comes to that, but getting the Foundation's approval is a good Plan A."

     'Smuggling a shipping container full of Watchmen onto the Foundation grounds secretly' feels plausible, but definitely not preferable.

     . . .

     Oh, wow. Rita's never seen one of these before, actually. The magnitude of cable infrastructure feels like-- "It's like plumbing," she blurts out, awed.

     "Ah, you're...!" she says to the muted girl, lifting a finger; and then "Nice to meet you, Ms. Bellwhistle! I'm Rita. And this is-" well, maybe she shouldn't speak for Liza actually- and then, "are you, you know, the phone switch thing? Like--" Rita, Bellwhistle doesn't know Loggerhead, it's racist to assume that-- "Mr. APPLe is an apple?"

     She slips into the middle of the fawning-older-women group, behind Vertin, and just basks up close. Making contact with a new cell isn't usually, you know... so sweet?
Liza Grier     Liza doesn't mind a handshake about it. She's so unserious about the firmness of it that it's kind of eerie. As is how much is rendered smooth by repeated burns. "It's still appreciated." she says to Vertin. "I try to remind people that this outfit is only what we put into it; waiting for something to go our way, fall into our laps, means the Paladins and Concord walk in, sit at the table, cut up the pie two ways, eat it all, and leave before we get anywhere." Releasing her hand, she glances at Regulus, or rather just beneath her sunglasses. "The best tool we have is that if we ask for something, someone somewhere wants to see us put it to good use. Important to remember that."

    Liza reaches into one of her not-very-authentic inner coat pockets, pulls out a drink can that's closer to the size of a slim pill bottle, and presents it to Regulus by swiveling it between her thumb and outer index finger so that she only holds it by one end, as if it were a loaded weapon. "You're no good if you fall asleep you know." she says, in lieu of 'you look like shit'. Regulus is relatively lucky that it's a fizzy-type energy drink. The branding is suspiciously absent. The flavour is like someone poured high-fructuose corn syrup and artificial coacao into a bottle of cough medicine and carbonated it. It has a very large health avisory.

    'Is there anything else you'd suggest?'

    "That's ideal." Liza says, just as rare as a troubled look from her. "We have more than enough hidey holes that are a pain to get to; none of the big players have been keen on tracking us lately, so it's a waste. Set up a bazaar and a futures market in there if you have to. Hell, I'll buy in. I keep my ship operating at surplus so I can make those kinds of trades for a reason. Tell me if you ever wanna to see how I do it."

    'Did they have any weird diseases around in this era...?'

    "You're not on enough drugs for a paramedic." Liza says, incomprehensibly, and puts her hands in her pockets when moving on.

    'I don't ask people to help me without intending to help them in return.'

    Liza thinks about this for longer than average. Her personal average, by a little, and the average that a Watchman should need to form an opinion on this, by far. Her takeaway requires two slow breaths to settle. "So the Foundation owns all the land anyone can survive on, and picks who they take on board and who they let drown. Based on obedience and usefulness, too. But they keep that weapon hidden instead of drawing it, so almost no one knows they're being threatened with it. And Manus Vindictae doesn't." Liza exhales, evidently in displeasure. Part of it could only be due to the nature of the Foundation itself; it's impossible that it wouldn't be. It's unusual how much isn't.

    "No, they couldn't even if they tried. The Foundation can't threaten anyone Manus Vindictae would take at all; if they reject your ticket to board, there's nowhere for you to go but the enemy camp, so it's a trigger they can't even pull." She punctuates her analysis with the withdrawing of a cigarette and a quiet exhalation of 'fuck'. "No wonder they don't want people knowing. No wonder they're always two steps behind, too. All the enemy has to do is tell everyone the truth and they're allies by default. They've got you good."

    The amount of 'Liza is right' is something she simply takes in stride, despite the fact that it's not at all common.

    'You have a salary that can pay all these people, Vertin?'

    "What do you think a salary even is?" Liza asks, thankfully rhetorical. "Money's only as good as whatever it buys. It's the concept of 'I deserve to eat' boiled down into a number so you can rank people's turn in line. If you have the food on-hand, plus the heating and water and toothpaste and toilet paper, how's that worse than a salary?"
Liza Grier     'I guess I'm still messed up by seeing the last one.'

    Liza finally puts her hand on Rita's head. It's a little harder, now that she's closer to her own height. "I know it's like a natural disaster and not a real enemy action or anything, but it's the same principle. Assume it's like a shock and awe tactic and you'll think about it more or less right." she says.

    'Made what chum??'

    Well. She wasn't going to say it. But she did think it. Liza makes a little noise about these two facts taken as a whole. She could have been so cool.

    'My! What an adorable getup!'

    Looking around at the group of people in the room, Liza fiddles with her arc lighter, thinks about it for a few more seconds, then sighs and puts it away.

    'Name's Bellwhistle! I'm, ah, an Awakened, but don't fret about it! You can just chat with me like anyone else.'

    Liza Grier has no opinion on this. Check back later.
    BELLWHISTLE is registered as: Stylish 'borg.

    "That's us." Liza says, able to smile, apparently, despite declining to smoke. That fact that it's such a tiny smile kind of makes it inexpressively genuine. "Have you ladies been working together a while? It looks like you get along just great." she says, leadingly. "It's not all that common to get to see who handles your line face to face. Nice surprise, actually." Her eyes are on Vertin being swarmed, and her lips twitch upward a millimeter further. "Or I guess it's reassuring." Back to Bellwhistle. "Is it really just the five of you for the whole area? Or are you just usually on the same shift?"
Distortion Dets. 'H-hello, Detective Moses. Hey, Miss Ezra. Any.. Um. Tips on looking more hard-boiled with this?'

    Moses makes a confused-offended expression, and slowly exhales smoke- annoyingly close to Odette's face, no doubt. At the same time, the Detective and her assistant speak up-

"Learn to speak without stuttering, perhaps that will help-"
"Get yourself all bruised up~! Trust me, that'll help-"

'I've done some research into the City-- Grade Three is actually quite high, from what I've heard.'

    "It is, but it won't do to stoke her ego. She's quite a trustworthy assistant- think of that, it's more valuable to consider than a number." Ezra adds, pouting, "Nyegh... You know, the Detective's only saying that because she's a Grade Five." "Ezra? Did you forget you wanted to make a good impression? Back-talk doesn't impress." "Egh- wait, noooo..?"

'I don't ask people to help me without intending to help them in return.'

    "How noble." Moses' words, without distinct inflection, sound uncomfortably close to sarcastic contempt- they aren't said with such, but her range in tone is dreadfully shallow. The only real tell is a lack of narrow-eyed glare, and Ezra at her side not flashing a sympathetic look the Timekeeper's way.

>Instead, it's a wide, unblinking eye that stares back at her with unreadable passivity,

    Moses chews on the bit of her pipe- "'Keeper' is apt, I see. A witness, a watcher, perhaps a record-keeper..." Moses' mumbling fades, and, while it's a far cry from offering a sympathetic glance Vertin's way, when she returns a look in the general direction of their eyes, it looks pained.

'From what I'm told, they're all predisposed to 'working on the side' already,'

    Moses exhales- a short, proud little breath of smoke. "Good information to already have- no reason to expect you haven't done your research on what those Syndicate ties carry with them. Gambling? Smuggling? Protection rackets? Hm, no matter for now, perhaps, but the importances of those nuances doesn't seem lost on you. And- that 'Arcane Skill'? Do explain further. I'm curious. Ezra? Do you have a pad of paper?" "Mm-hmm~! Here, Detective! Hey, you sound kind of impressed, don't you-" "Mm."

. . .
Distortion Dets. 'I'm, ah, an Awakened, but don't fret about it!'

    Moses doesn't react to Bellwhistle much until she starts to address the group- it's not even until the word 'awakened' that she even realizes that this is the talked-of individual. Neither her appearance is odd to Moses- not more than nearly everyone's appearance is to her eyes -nor are her actions with the switchboard, as the technology of '1928 Earth' is alien. Notes she'd accessed were annoyingly brief- 'Awakened' has something to do with ensouled objects? So, perhaps instead of the motifs of an oncoming distortion, the woman simply is- "Made for the job you hold, how fascinating... Is that a usual circumstance?"

'Are you, you know, the phone switch thing? Like--'

    Moses is secretly incredibly glad for someone to directly ask that- just to hear yet another outside perspective on what her surroundings, and surrounding people, actually appear. Moses gestures Ezra closer, and whispers near her ear- getting a nod, a second (or more) perspective cross-referenced.

'Mr. APPLe is an apple?'

    Moses coughs. "Excuse me? He is-?" Genuine confusion- a floating apple guy, without special added-on explanations? Those are common enough! One of Moses' closer-known correspondents is nothing but a pair of eyes! Ezra pipes up, unhelpfully, "He is, Detective, and he looks really shiny and crunchy, like you could just-" "Don't keep talking." "Awh.."

    "Private Investigative Detective Moses, and my assistant. Good day." Ezra waves alongside, a big grin on her face- "Miss Vertin's really got a style to her, doesn't she! The hat on the side... not everyone can pull that off! I know someone who's always trying it, and eugh... But no, not her! How about that!"
Rita Ma      Rita makes a little pleasant 'bwah' noise when Liza's hand contacts her head, and just like that...

     He is, Detective, and he looks really shiny and crunchy, like you could just-" "Don't keep talking." "Awh.."

     She nods, so so solemnly and earnestly, at Ezra. She gets it. They have it so so hard.

     Then her eyes drift back up. She sighs with the warmth of 'yeah, of course, you've got it'. "That does sort of help, Ms. Grier. I'm not... very good... with that sort of thing, where there isn't a scary monster or an evil person or something 'wrong' to touch and fix at all. But there's steps, and this is one, right?"
Odette Raskins "You're not on enough drugs for a paramedic."

"I-I'm not?  I mean, I could... Er. Once I finish that training, I could...?" Odette sounds uncertain as she replies to Liza, feeling her case again. "I mean, I've got plenty in here, but it'd be waste to take them unless I was actually hurt. Although if I had a few slow acting ones, they might make it easier to get a head start on things? Is that what..? Uh. What you mean, ma'am?"

"speak without stuttering,"
"all bruised up~!"

"I'm... I'm working on the first one." Odette affirms to Moses and Ezra. She really is working on it! Clearly, she's got a long way to go with that, especially within present company.

The bruise thing gets a more nervous noise out of her, clearly not fond of the idea. "Maybe some bandages instead...? No, that wouldn't be the same, would it? Looking tough isn't the same as toughening up for real." She sighs quietly, but takes some mental notes to test a few more ideas when it comes to training.

"Mr. APPLe is an apple?"
"Excuse me? He is-?"

"He is?" Odette mirrors Moses' confusion as her eyes dart from Moses to Regulus, then to APPLe, and then to Ezra. No, that can't be it. "But he has a voice! And he's smart! And..."

"he looks really shiny and crunchy, like you could just-"

Utterly dumbstruck by the realization that her assumption might've been wrong all along, Odette turns right back to APPLe, taking a deep breath to steel herself. "Er... E-excuse me." She murmurs to APPLe before waving her hand right underneath where she can see his apple and little tie. "See? There's something right..."

She waves her hands under APPLe a few more times. The EMT looks up at APPLe's apple, then back towards Moses and shakes her head slowly. She doesn't say anything else about that, content to just stare at the ceiling and reflect (again) on how shallow she truly is.
Regulus Regulus would be thrilled to smuggle people into the Foundation. She felt ECSTATIC when she was able to help convince Poltergeist to come back to the Foundation--not really because it means bringing back someone to the Foundation, but it means one more person from her era gets to live after all!

...

Well, okay, maybe ''live'' isn't quite the word but it's a better afterlife than shivering scared in a hotel, right?

''Mr. APPLe is an apple?''

"Specifically I am a Worchester Pearmain apple," APPLe supplies needlessly. "But today I am in awe of your appletude," He wiggles his body forward like he's bowing to the call center operatives.

''energy drinks!''

Regulus hasn't had an energy drink in her life. The closest she's gotten was Dr. Pepper and she seems a bit confused about what Liza is offering her. She takes the bottle like it is a loaded gun and makes sure to not aim it at anyone just in case it goes off without warning.

"Oh..! It is a soda? Thank you kindly, Miss Grier!" before she downs it. She blinks, and shakes her head as if she just got electrocuted. "Haven't had a soda quite like this before, but the taste isn't anything to sneeze at!"

''Waiting for something to go our way...''

"The early bird catches the worm but the second mouse gets the cheese." Regulus mulls aloud. "I'm hoping to build a Warpgate next, would make it a lot easier for me to go worm hunting that way."

APPLe sounds sick, "Let's...perhaps leave aside talk about worms today?"

"Oop!! Sorry, APPLe, that was really offensive of me. Can you forgive your poor Captain?"

"Of course, Captain."

She looks back to Liza, lowering her volume, "I've snuck in some supplies but it's all a bit of guesswork until I can get some proper time checking the Warpgate we've got out."

''No wonder they're always two steps behind, too.''

"But as Team Timekeeper we can be two steps ahead." She hesitates to mention that Manus Vindictae does have the disadvantage of 'being kind of creepy' but maybe that's just her? Nobody else has mentioned it. Maybe they're more used to...

Goo?

She tries not to think about it.

''Money's only as good as whatever it buys.''

"Well, sure." Regulus, who basically never has cash on hand agrees, "But she's still got to get ahold of the payment somehow, right? Even if it isn't money." And usually the way you get things you want to give people is also by paying for it. Or is Vertin shoplifting? Regulus hopes so. She'd be so proud.

Regulus isn't sure how to answer the confusion about the word chum. "I ... don't have to use the word chum." She says. "I can try mate, everybody loves mate."

Moses claims to be insane and Regulus is about to reassure her on impulse but then she seems confused about APPLe being an apple and that just sort of disrupts her entirely there.

"Ahm....! Please do not chomp down on this apple! Unless the Captain is in dire straits--"

"W--wait! Remember that talk before about assuming a bad hand? Let's not do that!" Regulus stammers but other than that, she does feel some empathy towards Ezra because she seems like a beleaguered assistant doing her best that is agreeing with her on Vertin's style.

"I see--we're both assistants... We should trade tips about how to be the coolest assistants."

''Odette commits a microaggression.''

APPLe floats over Odette's hand. "Miss Odette, are you quite alright? Are you feeling well?"
Liza Grier     'Specifically I am a Worchester Pearmain apple'

    Liza is now engaged in an entire Bit about how she just assumed APPLe was a famous hacker who backs up Regulus in her life of crime, whose personal branding and gimmick was apple-themed and the floating red thing is a drone. Not that it changes much, really, except about how many bullets she should expect him to block (downgraded to zero, from one).

    'Oh..! It is a soda? Thank you kindly, Miss Grier!'

    "Yeah kinda." she says, unhelpfully. "Don't drink a second one today or you'll have a heart attack."

    'Oop!! Sorry, APPLe, that was really offensive of me. Can you forgive your poor Captain?'
    'Of course, Captain.'

    Liza has decided this is kind of cute. +1. "I've got plenty of experience with dead drops and distribution. On call if you need a hand."

    'But she's still got to get ahold of the payment somehow, right? Even if it isn't money.'

    "There's a whole building complex in that suitcase, right?" Liza says, voice low enough for now, and professionally not even moving her gaze. "All you need is space that's yours. Doesn't have to be a factory; a house, a ship, a basement, a hidden clearing in the woods, whatever. Because everything you buy is something someone made; if people are willing to make it for each other, then a place is all it takes." She looks at Rita, saying 'tell 'em' with her eyes, perhaps.

    "There isn't a single thing on my ship I pay for. I grow it, build it, fix it, or trade something I did for something someone else did. And if it's a micro-processor that shit itself and you can only get it from one factory in the whole region, then I take it, because it sure as shit isn't only coming only from that one place for a good reason."

    'But there's steps, and this is one, right?'

    Liza nods. "If you can't be both right and prepared, you should try for kinda right, not kinda prepared. Seeing something a little wrong and stupid helps you keep your grip. That's why they always start with technicalities and logic; seeing if they can shame you out of action by playing their definition game."

    'Uh. What you mean, ma'am?'

    Liza wordlessly hands Odette her cigarette. It smells like an entire hospital when held up to her face.
Timekeeper "Any.. Um. Tips on looking more hard-boiled with this?"

    The question wasn't addressed to her, but Vertin adds her two cents anyways with the ghost of a smile in her voice. "Tying up your hair does wonders." They *do* have their hair up in a bun underneath their hat. If they wore it down, it'd be surprisingly long.

    "I also have to second Detective Moses's suggestion. If you're interested, I have several books on elocution and communication strategies you may borrow."

"Say, Vertin, do you trade secrets with TTT as well now that you mention?"

    Vertin spares a little attention to Ezra's goofy back and forth with Moses and Regulus, lingering for a little bit longer on Ezra before responding back at Regulus. "On occasion. The access to the outside world-- worlds, rather-- that I provide her, and the people I give her access to, are something she puts some amount of value on even without my own secrets, though I've never quite figured out the formula. I don't recommend trading with her carelessly, though; she's very shrewd."

"You have a salary that can pay all these people, Vertin?"

    Vertin's face tracks over to Regulus with a completely neutral expression. Their chin tilts down by a single, tiny degree, just enough that the shadow of the brim of their hat grazes the top of their eyes, briefly transforming their expression into 'horror'.

    "I do not." A moment later and their face brightens back up to normal again. "But I have a few projects working in the background, and my storage in the suitcase is ample. It's truly no issue to rely on me for this."

"Looking snazzy, Hibikibbles."

    Vertin looks over to Hibiki, both eyes visible for once and slightly widened. "Kibbles? Like the food for dogs?"

"I guess I'm still messed up by seeing the last one."

    Vertin lowers their voice and drops their gaze, hand tightening around the handle of the suitcase. "I'm sorry. It's a difficult thing to see."

    On that somber tone, they lift up the suitcase to hold it in both arms. The goal is to silently communicate what they're referring to without having to say it, but the way they hold it is vaguely reminiscent of a teddy bear. "I only have the ability to save arcanists from the Storm on my own. It's neither acceptable nor practical to me to limit my focus to them and leave humanity by the wayside. The Foundation is a resource at my disposal under limited circumstances, for that as well as many other goals, and so I don't believe anyone would begrudge me arranging a future with the government under these conditions."

"The Foundation can't threaten anyone Manus Vindictae would take at all; if they reject your ticket to board, there's nowhere for you to go but the enemy camp, so it's a trigger they can't even pull."

    Vertin falls silent to think about this in return, and when they speak, it's abrupt and contextless. "Two billion. Three and a half when the last Storm hit in 1966. Only a percent of them are arcanists, and only a fraction of those are pureblooded, and worth bringing to the next era to the Manus Vindictae. To them, there's no downside to telling the truth and promising salvation to everyone-- to everyone who they care to tell the truth to, it is the truth, and all the others are pawns to be manipulated and disposed of. The Foundation can't afford the same in reverse."

"And- that 'Arcane Skill'? Do explain further. I'm curious."

    Vertin shakes her head a tiny bit. "I'm not fully sure of the details, which is another reason I wanted to introduce myself in person. I know that her afflatus is 'communication', similar to TTT-- another one of my associates. An information-centric arcanist is absolutely indispensible in what I'm trying to establish here in Chicago."
Timekeeper "APPLe, charmed to meet you, Miss Bellwhistle."

    Inside, Bellwhistle is visibly surprised by APPLe's introduction specifically, and the cheery customer-service tone slips to a more natural voice. "Well, I'll be! It's a pleasure, Mr. APPLe! That must mean you folks," She looks over at Regulus, who accompanied APPLe, and Vertin, who's seemingly given no signs. It's possible that her gaze directionally included Moses and Ezra too, but it's hard to tell. "Must be *arcanists*?"

    "Right." Vertin readjusts their hat as it was slipping off, and asides to Evie, who lifts her hands away from fussing, "I'd prefer to keep my hat on if possible." "Of course, sorry dear! I was just admiring how cute the bow is!" "Thank you."

"...Wow. I'd say we're pretty far along on that rapport establishing already..."

    Vertin looks vaguely bemused by *this* being considered an especially honed method of communication of theirs. She finally manages to maneuver herself to offer handshakes-- and thus establish one handshake of distance-- to Evie and Doris, but the professional motion only seems to send them further over the moon. "Er, charmed, Doris; Evie."

    She looks out of the corner of her eyes at the others. "Are Americans often this way? ... No, I suppose Regulus and APPLe aren't inspiring quite so much of a reaction...."

    Meanwhile, Evie and Doris are gossiping back and forth blatantly, having only just pulled away from pecking at Vertin directly. "Do you imagine she's one of those English noblefolks daughter... sons...?" "Just look at her! Thin as a twig! No way she's being fed off *royal* funds!" "Maybe they're starving her to keep her curves off and raise her as a boy... no heirs, and all that. Didn't you ever read a book like that?" "Mmm. But they raise their boys up different over in Europe. I once saw a Spaniard boy who was slim and pretty just like that." "Maybe that's so... he looks like he's used to cleaner air, doesn't he?"

    Vertin blinks, but doesn't interject until an appropriate lull in this not-quiet-enough conversation, and seems uncertain how to go about correcting this at all. "I'm not nobility, no. I never met my parents."

    Predictably, the *orphan* reveal leads to another bout of gossiping, but at this point, Vertin just seems to think it's fine. "That's rapport, I suppose."

"Made for the job you hold, how fascinating... Is that a usual circumstance?"
"are you, you know, the phone switch thing? Like--"

    Bellwhistle smiles a little apologetically for no particular reason, but quickly recovers her natural cheer. She taps the headset on her right side with a finger. "Born twenty two years ago, I was! I've been working that long, too. As for if it's usual..." She shrugs. "I've only met a handful of folks like me over my life, with Mr. APPLe just today. The only reason I know the 'name' is because of those government folks in the white and gray that came to give me a lecture before. I can't imagine what else I'd do! Holding my switchboard in one arm and a baby in the other, maybe?"

"It's like plumbing,"

    "Oh, with all the pipes!" Doris smiles at Rita, amused by the comparison. "Does your husband work in plumbing, dear? Or is he a city worker?"
Timekeeper     Then, on what this place is! Bellwhistle straightens up proudly, briefly gets distracted by plugging in a cord from her headset into her portable switchboard and looking up in the corner of her eyes to say "Are you waiting? Are you through?" and then unplug a different cord after a couple seconds of waiting.

    "This is the Ainsworth Telephone Exchange Office! If by comms, you mean communications, then absolutely. We service the whole Ainsworth neighborhood, with connections to--" On the switchboard on the wall, a series of small circular panels over cable slots flip over when she indicates them to show a red light before flipping back over. "OAkfield, SOuth, MArketsville, Archer Heights, O'Hare, and Central Chicago!"

    She drops her hand with a smile, drumming her fingers on her thigh with a clacking sound that's only partially muffled by the cloth. The other implicative question is one she recognizes, but she's hesitating a little on answering. "It's just me and the gals most of the time. We work our ten hours, with overlaps during high demand hours, but that's just about it. Strictly speaking, we've got our boss, Mr. Pitts, who's supposed to oversee us, but he's not around so much, so we take some time to ourselves."

    The older of the two teenagers-- introduced as Margaret-- upon overhearing this, yanks out one of the active cables from the switchboard, pulls her operator headset off ferociously, and swivels around on her stool. Puffy curly hair, squashed down in a silly pattern from the headset, she's a little red-faced even before she begins shouting.

    "Mr. Piggs only comes round to dig out the register and tell us off for some new rule we've broken just after he's made it up! All that talk of supervising us as if Ms. Bellwhistle'd do anything to hurt us! She's keeping us *safe* from that pompous bastard!"

    Bellwhistle turns around to lightly admonish her, but she doesn't get far before Vertin interjects. "Now, don't talk like that around new acquaintances. Most folk haven't seen someone like me before, so it's no--"

    "It's alright, Bellwhistle. You won't find any disagreement here." Evie elbows Doris in the side with a pointed look like she's won some kind of argument. It's unclear about what.

    Vertin crosses her arms. "Now, Bellwhistle, telephone connections aren't the only business conducted here, as you've already discussed with James. I'll be your primary contact for supply and direction, so as would everyone else, I'd like to hear more about the business and your needs."

    "Oh sure, sure." Bellwhistle adjusts the switchboard in her arms. "Well, the truth is, most hours we hardly get more calls than I can handle on my own, since my sorcery's about 'connections', you see. Mr. Pitts doesn't like to hear about it, so he doesn't, and he also doesn't like to pay us well enough to earn hearing anyways. So we spend our time elsewise."

    "Doris's got some leftover stock business that her scoundrel of a husband left behind before kicking the bucket, and she cleans the earnings that the other girls make, as well as a couple of local bootleggers. Margaret's memorized practically every house and voice in the neighborhood, Ruth's a runner, Evie's got some extra phone lines for some hoity-toity subscribers trading art... that is to say, we've all got needs, but we've got ears in half the city. And that's something that'll help, I was told?"

    Vertin nods. "Right. For now... there are people, arcanists, likely infiltrating the city with an accelerationist agenda that will result in catastrophic harm to the people who live here. They often wear black and blue and seek out other arcanists. With your connections, I hope to keep an eye on their movements, and build a more united front for the people of Chicago along the way."
Regulus ''Don't drink a second one today or you'll have a heart attack.''

"That's easy to do, I have no idea where to get a second one." Regulus admits proudly as if by not learning information she deftly avoided a situation where she definitely would've drank a second for that heart attack.

Liza says she has experience with distribution ... this could actually be a big help! But she doesn't want to waste Liza with GUESSES as to what she needs. "I'll take a peek and let you know what I still need, far be it for me to not accept a friendly hand!" She seems to be thinking positively of Liza, though maybe she's got a natural inclination for stoic people who can be a bit wry in tone now and then.

"You have a ship? Stellar, mate!" She is assuming a sailing ship here. "Well I am happy to build for Vertin, free of charge, though we might need a few more ch--mates before we're really self sufficient like that."

She looks over to Vertin. "Too true, love, I've given her a story but if I don't spend it soon she might disqualify my credit..." Though it feels like there's some things she might not find out any other way, things she might need to know but she's hesitant to try this method to learn. But what was that about early birds and second mouses? Maybe she shouldn't hesitate. Beter to ask forgiveness than permission right?

''Like the food for dogs?''

"Oh I didn't think about that..." Regulus admits, gaze travelintg towards Hibiki for a long moment.

''Is Vertin Gay Or European?''

"Well... not to countermand you or anything, Vertin..." Regulus says. "But never meeting your parents and then finding out way later that they were secret nobility and you never knew is exactly how a lot of these stories go." She shakes her head 'sadly'. "You may be a secret heir yet, love, with a story like that."

Regulus imagines little baby headsets and then starts imagining little baby apples and her gaze goes distant and blank for a while as she lets other people get dialogue boxes in, but she jumps in once NEW RULES are mentioned.

"Oh if that isn't how it usually is. Rules rules rules and then you can't get anything done!" She's sympathetic. "I'm glad you're all not letting yourself get pinned down and finding other tricks to pull!"
Odette Raskins "Miss Odette, are you quite alright? Are you feeling well?"

Odette looks back over at APPLe slowly, opens her mouth to answer, then stops. She needs a moment to figure out if she really is or isn't, then eventually settles on "N... No. And yes. Um. Both? Both." She answers unclearly, still wearing that distant look of utter defeat on her face.

Liza wordlessly hands Odette her cigarette.

Odette doesn't inhale it right away, instead just taking the tiny piece and staring at it dully for a second. Under  normal circumstances, she'd probably refuse. Odette's heard about how cigarettes are chock full of health risks, after all, and she's supposed to set a good example for her patients, food and drink notwithstanding.

Right now, though, the smell of a hospital is comforting and familiar, and she puts it in her mouth before hastily removing it and putting it back from the correct side. The slightest inhale has Odette already struggling to keep it down, but she forces herself to refrain from even gagging much. Liza had to have given her this for a reason, after all.

"Rrgh. Th.. Thank you, Miss Liza." It's probably good for her, conventional knowledge be damned. Also, because the taste keeps her mind focused on that instead of thinking more about what she's just found out about herself.

"Tying up your hair does wonders."

Odette's getting a lot of helpful advice today! Vertin's advice is something she can do right now, too, and she gets right to work bundling her hair up into a neat.. A neat...

Okay, she's not getting it neatened up right now, because getting it to cooperate after being outside in that humid air isn't going to work right now, but she keeps it in mind for later. "Elocution... O-oh, yeah. That's not a bad idea, either. I could... Um. Yeah, I could use that. Thanks, Miss Vertin."

"Are Americans often this way?"

Odette follows Vertin's gaze towards... Who here would be an American, anyway? She's not sure how to tell, but she can at least guess a few that definitely aren'ts. Hibikis isn't. Regulus and APPLe aren't. Rita isn't. Moses and Ezra aren't. That just leaves...

Liza? No, even Liza doesn't strike her as American, but who else could Vertin be talking about? Looking from Liza towards Doris, Evie, Margaret, and Ruth, Odette tries to come up with some kind of unifying factor between the five of them, fails miserably at that, then settles on an awkward shrug at Vertin.

"I've only met a handful of folks like me over my life, with Mr. APPLe just today."

"That rare? Huh... It's definitely... Pretty interesting, meeting more people like Mister APPLe, yeah. " She comments, feeling a little less self-conscious than she did before with finding out about APPLe's appleness. "I get the switchboard part kind of, but why the baby? Is that.. Er. Are you used to working with little kids, too?"

Bellwhistle explains the place!

"So you really are managing this place manually..." Odette marvels at the notion of doing this by hand, freezes for a second when she realizes that might lead to more question, then hastily adds, "I would've thought these..Er. Just stayed plugged in all time or something."

"Doris's got some leftover stock business"
"Margaret's memorized practically every house and voice"
"Ruth's a runner, Evie's got some extra phone lines"

Four people, four sets of things to help out with. Odette closes her eyes as she mulls those over, nodding slowly after a few seconds of thinking. "I'm pretty good at running, too, if Miss Ruth ever needs an extra set of arms and legs to get stuff or messages delivered. And..."

Odette pulls open the side of her trench coat to reveal her medical case. "I'm a medic, too, so I've got all sorts of stuff to help with any... Um. Running-based injuries, or if anyone needs to make a quick getaway and ends up twisting something shaking security. Er. The cops. Think that might help any with your or... Hmm. Any other friends?"
Rita Ma      "I'm sorry. It's a difficult thing to see."
     "It's neither acceptable nor practical to me to limit my focus..."
     Rita nods, then nods again, first sober and then hesitantly uplifted. But soon they're in with the switchboard operators, and that's no place to be talking about a suitcase, so...

     "Oh, with all the pipes!"
     Rita does know the charm of being fussed over by slightly-gossipy older women. It happened more when she was Vertin's age and also Vertin's height; this is a nostalgic vintage. She absolutely beams, arms folding behind her back. "I'm sorry, Ms. Doris," she says with a sheepish joy. "I know it must be pretty normal to you. I just never knew all this went into a phone call, so...!"

     (Nobody tell her they use cell towers, now.)

     "Does your husband work in plumbing, dear?"
     "Huh?" Rita startles softly. Then she looks back at Liza, who has shortish hair, and is presently wearing a hat with a Rosie the Riveter-esque factory worker getup.

     "Oh, that's my girlfriend, actually," Rita says, turning back to Doris with her eyes smiled sweetly shut. "Um, she's an engineer! My brother did some plumbing work to get by when we were little, though."

     "as if Ms. Bellwhistle'd do anything to hurt us! She's keeping us *safe* from that pompous bastard!"
     Ah. So the life of an Awakened is like that. Rita's smile turns sad-thankful at Margaret before pivoting back to Bellwhistle. "No. It's okay, Ms. Bellwhistle. I... it's true I haven't seen many people like you, but..." 'But you shouldn't let people be mean to you just because you're weird', goes unspoken in the little open-mouthed smiling wince. "... Well, I'm glad you have people who understand you, and I want to understand you too."

     "What goals do you all have in the city already? Or isn't there something we can help you with, too?"

     'tell 'em'
     Rita very seriously mm-mms at Liza before stepping back from the Older Woman Fray to engage Regulus. "You know, how much money something's worth is really just a measure of how much effort it takes to make," she says, pirate-suitably avoiding words like 'exchange-value'. "If the suitcase has light to see by, and dirt to grow things in, people really can look after each other. Like Apple Tree Island." (Well, there's sort of money there too, but that's not the point.) "You should come by sometime! There's boats."
Liza Grier     'To them, there's no downside to telling the truth and promising salvation to everyone-- to everyone who they care to tell the truth to, it is the truth, and all the others are pawns to be manipulated and disposed of. The Foundation can't afford the same in reverse.'

    "Yeah. It's not literally the worst agent-antagonist asymmetry I've heard of, but just barely at best." Liza says, as if this were a topic fit for discussion at a very difficult town hall. "Telling anyone reorients their priorities around being saved. The Foundation makes it clear who gets to be, and can't bluff without losing assets. Manus Vindictae can lie, and people can know they're lying, and still not have a better choice anyway. Because when you're talking about annihilation, any risk, any compromise, is worth accepting to get youout, and anyone offering a way can justify anything."

    Liza shakes her head, breathing a moment. "'Just our guys' is an agile objective. You can trade and spend and finesse a lot to get that. 'Everyone' isn't. You definitely can't tell someone to trust you because you want to save everyone and then admit you have to be choosy at the same time, too. Yeah. The less they know the better."

    'Must be *arcanists*?'
    'Right.I 'd prefer to keep my hat on if possible.'

    Liza falls silent trying to figure out how these things are relevant. Vertin's question about Americans, rhetorical or not, gets only a shrug on her part. And it gets no better at the ensuing debate, either. Liza isn't polite enough to pretend not to notice, but no matter how hard she stares, she can't actually make heads or tails of what they mean. That is to say, she understands, consciously, the logistics of manipulating family fortune and legal identity for wealth, as well as the signs of poverty as compared to affluence, but their relevance to the culture of gender and the era seems so cut-and-dry that she just can't imagine why it'd be exciting, never mind something to guess and gossip about.

    Her eyes slide over to Vertin, in fact, as if to gain some clue. Seeing none forthcoming, Liza exaggerates her shrug to be visible from further away, and at least tries to contribute, "The body's a really complicated thing. More in heaven and earth than you could dream of, and all." Liza is fairly sure this quote is attributed to an ancient philosopher. She twirls a lock of her hair (white, non-anime) for direction, and says, "We can say 'how' this happens, but there's not really a 'why'. Sometimes things just happen 'cause it's possible they could."

    'I can't imagine what else I'd do! Holding my switchboard in one arm and a baby in the other, maybe?'

    Okay . . . stylish AI? Maybe? APPLe being a drone operator wasn't that far off, actually.

    'It's just me and the gals most of the time. We work our ten hours, with overlaps during high demand hours, but that's just about it. Strictly speaking, we've got our boss, Mr. Pitts, who's supposed to oversee us, but he's not around so much, so we take some time to ourselves.'

    "Oh that's perfect." Liza says, blinking her way into a subdued, 'bright and surprised' expression. "I don't just mean for us; I mean it's hard to beat that kind of trust. It used to it be that I didn't even bother to learn my coworkers' names because of how fast we'd go through them. Glad you've got--"
Liza Grier     'She's keeping us *safe* from that pompous bastard!'

    Liza pauses with more patience than genuine shock for Margaret's sudden outburst, though she certainly hadn't expected it. She fills the empty space she was going to use for more thinly-disguised shop talk by turning that lightly stunned stare at Doris' as Rita brings her up, helpfully waving one burn-scarred hand in slow motion.

    "I used to mix drinks, too." she says, like it's dry wit. Probably because of the prohibition or something, right? "Sorry, I wasn't really listening in. Something broken? If we're gonna be helping each other out, I'm fine with a call if you need something fixed. Or . . ." She side-eyes Margaret, then Bellwhistle, and slides back in half a second, all with knowing intent. "Someone." It's incredible she can still put on a gentle smile like that. "Anything, any time. I'm not the nosy type. Okay?"