[Sodium_noir] Hell is Other People

[Jennie Teakle]

Sinclair Party
Cloakroom

Sandra, Christine, Jack, JB
Bastet, Mage, Wild Card, Undying


> [Jack]
> His attention still drawn to Christine, it takes Jack
> a moment to register that a question is being asked of
> him.  His head turns slowly to examine the stranger.
>
> “Sure...not a problem.” His words are a bit slurred as
> he fumbles with the pocket of his jacket. “Oh, fuck
> me.  Where’d they go...”
>
> Jack stands up, a bit wobbly on his feet.  He extracts
> a silver lighter and smiles triumphantly.  About to
> light the man’s cigar, Jack thinks better of it and
> thrusts it at him.  “Here - best you do it yourself.
> Not sure I wouldn’t set your nose on fire instead.”
>
> [John]
> John smiles softly and takes the lighter.  Flipping it
> open with practiced ease, the flame bursts to life as
> he brings it to the tip of his cigar.  He tries to be
> careful with the smoke, steering it away from the
> others as best he can, but it's obvious he's
> distracted, worried.
>
> Whatever the topic of conversation was, the matter
> clearly hadn't been resolved.
>
> Once the cigar tip was glowing a bright red, he
> snapped the lighter closed and looked down at Jack.
>
> "You okay?"
>
> [Jack]
> Jack stares at the man for what seems an eternity.
>
> “Well...” The word comes out like molasses. “I’m
> drunk. And yourself?”


[Christine]

Christine is staring round at the high society types, a wild edge to  
her expression. She's looking for Mara but the spangles and  
unfamiliarity of the throng are making it hard to think. Her sifting  
isn't helped by trembling vision and hard beating heart. Her night  
has just been one long booze-soaked lurch into crisis. Pretty  
special, Christine, she thinks savagely.

She is dimly aware of Jack chatting to the handsome, hard-faced  
stranger who stands over him and of  . . . Sandra? Christine hopes  
she recalls her glamorous rescuer's name correctly. On impulse she  
turns to her beautiful Samaritan and says,

"Listen, I'm looking for Mara Ravenclaw. Do you know her? Long dark  
hair, black dress, diamonds?" Christine realises it's a long shot but  
right now she could use all the help she can get. "I got to tell her  
something. Important. Ask her . . . " Christine tails off, rocked by  
a sudden flush of rage. Ask her what? If Mara knew that Camille  
Carlton wasn't  . . .  Christine remembers the woman's morgue-cold  
finger against her lips.  But  of course, Camille *is* dead. Dead  
like Mara. "There's something I need to know," Christine concludes,  
eyes hectic with sudden fire.


Tag Sandra, Jack, John







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