Iscariot Ep 5: On The Hunt

Started by Lomari, May 14, 2020, 02:58:43 pm

Octavia Wynn

Octavia followed the Salon Woman into a back room. It was less than she had expected for the money and more than she had expected for being in the back of a hair salon. She'd wanted big rooms, white walls, bright lights, squeaky floors, and the clean, hard smell of antiseptic. She got the last one a little more than she wanted. The whole room burst with the smell of bleach so strongly her nose burned at little. Well, at least she knew the room was clean.

She sat in the chair as indicated and out of habit and nerves more than anything else she slid her arrow out of her boot and began twirling it between her fingers while the other woman typed away on her data pad. With the repetitive motion making her brain go blank, her body began to physically relax.

The woman paused in her typing and looked up from the pad. Octavia remembered the agreement no weapons. She hadn't really considered it a weapon when she was doing this exercise, but she could see how the other party would.
"Sorry," she said in a meek tone, "I know, no weapons." As she put the offending piece of alloy away she said to herself, "I really need to learn to do that with a coin one of these days."

Finished typing, the woman handed Octavia the datapad full of questions. She also finally had a name to call the other woman: Moira.
She could answer all of the questions with one word.
Her answer was flat and lifeless. "Explosion."

The irritated look on Moira's face let Octavia know that she was probably looking for more information. It was the same look she'd cataloged thousands of times when she answered questions with only the minimum amount of information while still giving the answers requested of her. She exhaled a quick breath and tried again.

"There was an explosion. I think I was very near the blast site. My ears rang for quite some time. A friend helped me equalize the pressure, which stopped the ringing and replaced it with absolute nothingness."
Let's see, she thought. What else might Moira need to know?

"The doctor on the ship gave me this medicine that would help for a short time before going back to silence. I didn't get a peak at the name but it came out of a purple and blue bottle. The pill was mint green and a small round shape with a score groove down the middle on one side. On the other side was printed 42." In her answering, Octavia made sure not to mention specific places, times or names. Even though she had done nothing wrong, she didn't want a repeat of the wedding.

Octavia looked at Moira's questions again. She'd answered all except how recent the injury was. She was sure there were lots of explosions lots of places for many reasons - legitimate and otherwise - but she didn't want to give any information that could help pin specifics down.

After one last consideration she added, "I've been out of the medicine for a week."

Hercules Holliday

Holliday would have laughed at the kid if he wasn't holding sharpened instruments so near his head. The kid was nervous enough it was obvious some back room stuff was happening in the... back room. What that could be was anyone's guess, but Holliday wasn't just anyone. Trained in the art of detection, with a lifetime spent on both sides of the law, he was uniquely suited to finding out just what that might be and how it might most benefit him. "Sure, I'll take the shave, kid." His soulful, puppy dog eyes found Orville's and he grinned. "I trust you." He hoped it would have the desired effect.

Effects, rather. Plural. One would be to actually inspire the young man to give him a proper shave, which he hadn't had in years. The duller by the minute electric razor he had next to the sink at Gary's rarely did the job to his satisfaction. But it was quick and efficient, kept his fine blond beard in the sink where it belonged. Winning Orville's trust was his second goal. Holliday would find out what was in that back room.

Before he could admire, or admonish, the shearing he'd received from the apprentice beginner barber, the chair fell back again, this time on purpose, though no less jarring. "Does the whiplash cost extra?" He joked, though corrected quick-like to soothe Orville's no-doubt fragile ego. "Kidding. I know you'll do fine." Charm didn't just extend to those he was determined to bed.

"That's nice." He said, as the kid whipped out a hot towel and smothered his cheeks with it. Technique was a little rushed, but the thought was there. Getting a proper shave out on the rim was a godsend, and Holliday wasn't about to complain. If the kid knew to towel him down first, and remembered to do it after, he was well trained. "Your boss teach you to shave, kid?" Steer the conversation, roundaboutslike, back to the girl. That's how it was done.
Dialogue Color - Cyan

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