|
|
Post by Forrest Kaysen on Nov 28, 2010 15:30:41 GMT -8
Time: Day 2, Mid-Morning
Weather: Raining
Warnings: Wet dog smell, terrible metaphors. Also, Kaysen.
Characters: Forrest Kaysen, Willie, OPEN
Notes: Kaysen's truck has broken down on the main road outside Deer Yard Hotel. About where Sigourney usually stands, on that little corner.
The rain pounded upon the town today - it left the morning gray and hazy, and it closed most of the shops. The locals in Greenvale tended to stay indoors on days like this...there was something about the rain here that just seemed to drive people to reckless behavior.
Even in the midst of all this, however, there were still a few odd people out and about, puttering here and there, trying to get out of the rain. One such person was, presently, standing beside a bright red truck pulled onto the side of the road, shaking his head and trying to wipe the rain from his glasses. He was quite a heavyset fellow, sporting a pair of patchy overalls and a short, messy head of brunette hair. At this moment, he was quite soaked, the flannel of his yellow shirt clinging to his arms as he struggled to stoop and study one of the tires on the truck.
"Well, goshdarnit. This is about as awful as a porcupine hiding in the cookie jar!"
A doghouse sat in the back of the truck, and in it, a dalmatian was huddled, trying to keep himself dry while his owner shouted. He barked in agreement to the statement, then shook the rain out of his ears.
The large man groaned in frustration, kicking the offending tire and frowning. What a spot for a breakdown! He was going to have to call to have this mess towed and fixed.
For that, he would need a phone.
Standing beside the truck, he reached into the window to turn on his hazard lights, hoping that someone would stop to help him....
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 28, 2010 15:42:34 GMT -8
Charlotte had been pleasantly surprised when she woke up to see rain streaming down the window of her hotel room. So she'd thrown on some clothes, grabbed her leather jacket and camera and headed out to her car.
She was driving down the main road outside the Deer Yard Hotel when she caught sight of a bright red pickup truck... with a doghouse in the back??? Odd. The hazard lights of the truck were on, and the driver was standing outside the truck looking frustrated. Guess he's having car trouble. As much as she wasn't in the mood for people... she couldn't just leave the guy stranded until someone else showed up. Curse me and my good nature, she thought wryly.
Checking to make sure there were no cars coming, she slowly turned around and pulled up behind the pickup. Leaving her camera on the passenger seat, she parked and climbed out into the pouring rain.
"Need some help?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Atlas on Nov 28, 2010 15:47:20 GMT -8
Atlas was on the way to the Deer Yard Hotel for breakfast. He noted that it was one of the few places open during the frequent rain, and would frequently take advantage of this fact on mornings where he really didn't feel like cooking, yet wanted a decent breakfast.
He had opted to wear a skull cap over a suit and tie. It didn't really protect him from the rain, but, it kept his hair dry. "Why doesn't this town sell raincoats?" he wondered.
On the way over, he spotted two vehicles. One had it's hazard lights on. He took this as a cue to help out.
The one that did had a dog house on the back. "Interesting design" he thought. "I might do that if I get a dog one day."
"Something wrong with your vehicle?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Forrest Kaysen on Nov 28, 2010 16:09:12 GMT -8
What luck! Not one, but two people had stopped to help him! Pleased with the kindness of the two good Samaritans, the heavyset man ran a thick hand across his brow, dabbing rain from his forehead and off his glasses as best he could. His voice was jovial and good-natured, even if his smile was a little weird.
"Yes, yes! I was actually tryin' to get to the hotel, but wouldn't ya know it, my tire up and went flat on me. Don't have a spare right now, lost it back in Idaho - I'm a travelling salesman, y'see." He gestured vaguely to the side of the truck, which was proudly emblazoned with white letters. 'Big Red Nursery.' He didn't pause for very long before he continued speaking. "Now, I don't have a phone right now to get a tow, and I hate to impose on either of you friendly folks, but...d'ya mind if I borrow one so I can get ol' Red here fixed up? I'm not in town for very long, see. Got a big business deal in Seattle, and missing out on it would be like...like...sitting on your Christmas present on accident, then opening it up and it's a broken doll."
He gave a big, questioning smile, looking between the two of them. The dog in the back of the car canted his head to one side, eying the newcomers curiously.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 28, 2010 16:22:21 GMT -8
The rain had very quickly plastered her hair to her head once she’d stepped out of her car, and was making a wet mess of her glasses. There wasn't much sense in continuing to wear them in the rain but she didn't bother removing them. She returned her attention to the peculiar man. And his dog.
He’s certainly... jovial, isn’t he.
Charlotte offered him a small smile. If all he needed was to use a phone, that at least she could help with. She fished around in her pocket until she found her cell, and tossed it to the strange man. “Here.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Atlas on Nov 28, 2010 16:33:25 GMT -8
Atlas stepped out of the car to help the man. The rain instantly drenched his suit jacket and hat. He still kept the hat on to keep his hair dry.
Atlas took a good look at the man with the broken down truck. "For some reason this guy reminds me of a younger Santa Claus. Maybe it's the size of his body, his jolly demeanor, or the shades of red on his truck." he thought. "Though I don't remember Santa spouting metaphors left and right."
"This is always the possibility though that the doll was broken before, and it was in no way your fault." Atlas replied to his metaphors.
Charlotte had offered him a phone already, making his redundant.
"Sorry to hear about your car though. If I had a spare tire, I'd let you borrow one, though mine is in my garage. Do you need a ride anywhere though?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Forrest Kaysen on Nov 28, 2010 16:49:55 GMT -8
The man looked the two of them over, still grinning. He didn't recognize either of them...new to town, perhaps? They must be, he supposed, or none of them would be out in the rain. Better for him this way, anyhow, he may have had to leave his truck here if they hadn't come along.
Catching the phone tossed to him, he gave a nod of thanks to the girl, pleased as can be. "Thank you! I'm lucky such kind people decided to stop. Starting to feel more like a wet dog than Willie is." The dog - who must be Willie - barked in objection. As his stumpy fingers worked the dial pad, he glanced to Atlas, bobbing his head enthusiastically.
"If you don't mind a couple of wet dogs in your car, I'd be much obliged if you could get us down to the hotel. That's where we were headed, anyway, we stay there when we're in town." Once this had been dispensed, he held the phone to his ear, turning away for a moment while he talked to the towing service. Humorously, there was a dalmatian patch on the backside of his overalls...this must be a man who really loved his dog.
The dog in question, Willie, crept out of the doghouse, hopping down to sniff at the two newcomers. He seemed good-natured and friendly, much as his owner seemed to be.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 28, 2010 17:18:39 GMT -8
She didn’t think he’d stopped grinning since they’d gotten out to help him. It was amusing... and a little disconcerting. Are people really THIS jovial? Apparently so. At least one was, anyways.
“You’re very welcome,” she told him.
He’s staying at the hotel too. Haven’t seen too many people there. Then again, I’m either in my room, or outside the hotel. It's no wonder I haven’t seen many people.
Atticus had offered to give the odd man a ride, so that was all taken care of at least. Once the towing service showed up she could run out to the Milk Barn for some soda. She checked her back pocket for her wallet, wanting to make sure she had enough cash with her for the purchase. Fuck, she thought as her hand found nothing but a flat, empty pocket. Looks like I’m headed back to the hotel too. Can’t believe I forgot my wallet. It did work out though. She could drop her glasses off before going anywhere.
Charlotte knelt down and offered a hand to Willie, letting him sniff at her. He seemed a very friendly dog.
|
|
|
|
Post by Atlas on Nov 28, 2010 17:37:51 GMT -8
"Sounds good. I was on my way there for some breakfast anyways, so it will be good. I'll let you make your call first though. I'm sure Charlotte still needs her phone later."
Atlas waited for the fat man to make his phone call. His fingers easily dwarfed the tiny buttons on Charlotte's phone, making it harder to dial.
While Kaysen was making his call, he knelt down to Willie as well. "How are you doing, boy?" he asked the dog. "Not a fan of the rain. Me neither. You can sit in the backseat. It'll be drier there for you. Once we get to the hotel, maybe we can dry your fur."
Once the man was done with his call, he opted to introduce himself.
"I don't think I got your name." he said as he offer his hand to shake. "Atticus Lasseter, Attorney at Law. But you can call me Atlas."
|
|
|
|
Post by Forrest Kaysen on Nov 28, 2010 19:27:45 GMT -8
Willie seemed quite pleased with the attention - he sniffed at Charlotte and licked her hand, then licked at Atlas's face while he was crouched and speaking to him. All the while, his tail was wagging away...at least there was no question about the dog. Dogs really had nothing to hide, after all. They were unlike people in that way.
Once the strange man had made his call, he handed the phone back towards Charlotte, giving her another nod of thanks. "Thanks again - I owe ya one. Tell you what, you like plants? Remind me later, I'll give you a nice potted one." Still cheerful despite being drenched, he turned towards Atlas, taking the hand that was offered to him and giving it a firm shake. Between his size and his enthusiasm, it was rather a jarring handshake indeed.
"Kaysen - Forrest Kaysen. Like I said, I'm a traveling salesman - I sell tree saplings. Great to meet you, I'm sure. A lawyer, huh? Hope you do okay in a small town like this! Most of these folks like to settle things on their own, y'see." Laughing a bit, he turned towards Charlotte, offering his hand to her in turn.
"How about you, Ma'am?" He smiled invitingly, blinking at her through his rain-soaked glasses.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 28, 2010 19:39:08 GMT -8
Charlotte rose carefully to her feet as the stranger hung up and turned back to them. Taking back her phone and tucking it back in her pocket, she laughed a little and shrugged.
“You’re welcome. Though I only did what anyone would have.” She blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Plants? Yeah... I suppose.” He was ridiculously cheerful, despite the being drenched. And the car troubles. Though the towing service was likely on its way, so that would be taken care of. He shook Atticus’ hand as enthusiastically as one would have expected from someone so jovial.
He introduced himself to the two of them, and she could finally put a name to the man. Forest Kaysen. That’s... remarkably appropriate for a tree sapling salesman.
She smiled, taking the hand he offered as he asked for her name.
“Charlotte. Charlotte Jacobs.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Atlas on Nov 29, 2010 3:47:32 GMT -8
The dog had licked Atlas's face after he talked to him, causing him to chuckle. It was good to see the dog was friendly. He remembered at times meeting people before with dogs so aggressive that they would rip him apart if their owners were not on lead.
Atlas shook the hand of the giant salesman. He was used to firm handshakes, but this one definitely had quite a bit of energy behind it. It almost felt like, with a little more effort, the giant salesman could shake Atlas around like a ragdoll.
"Forrest Kaysen huh. With a name like that, it was either this or park ranger." he thought. "I'm sure a big man such as him could easily chase off bears if need be."
"Well, there are always exceptions. Besides, I find it much more relaxing out here than in the city."
he watched him introduce himself to Charlotte and waited until he was done.
"I think we've spent enough time in the rain." He said as he went towards his truck. "I'll take you to the Deer Yard, Mr. Kaysen. You're welcome to join me for breakfast after you get settled in if you wish." he added as he opened a car door in the back for Willie to get in.
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Nov 29, 2010 4:12:21 GMT -8
[Inside Room 164.]
Henning usually didn't wake up this late, but there was something about the sound of the rain outside that had made him reluctant to get out of bed. His sluggishness made him irritable. Being slow made him irritable. He washed up and got dressed, but the pitter-patter of water on the roof of the hotel was still driving him crazy. Had to get out... He'd rather be outside and on the move than trapped in here with this infernal noise. He put on a standard-issue Bureau slicker, grabbed his umbrella (always be prepared...) and went out into the lobby, his sudden need for mobility overriding his philosophy that "breakfast ought to be eaten like a king, and supper like a pauper". He could get something at the Diner, and maybe he'd catch another glimpse of Mr. Stewart, his aide and the man in the bomber jacket.
Good, he had a plan. Henning liked plans. Or, at the very least, an excuse to be somewhere.
He hadn't driven more than a minute down the road when he hit his first distraction of the day: A miniature convoy of three cars parked by the side of the road, including a blue Subaru with unfamiliar lines, a black Mustang, and a bright red pick-up truck. After a moment's intense internal debate- Henning was never keen on changing course once he'd set his mind to something- he pulled over on the other side of the road, across from the three cars.
Three again. If he was a superstitious man, he'd have to believe three was going to be his lucky number. Had there been an accident? It didn't look as if any bumpers had been damaged. Normally he wouldn't have stopped, but he'd thought he'd seen a familiar face on one of the people standing around outside in the rain. Not face, actually. Hair. That curly, gold red hair you could spot a mile away. Seeing it, a host of other images went flickering through Henning's mind by association: Police tape covering a house in North Carolina, blood streaming down the sides of an oaken desk, tears streaming down someone's face. A year and a half ago, only three months before the purple gas attack in the subway system almost put him out of commission for good. Strange, the memories didn't seem as far away as he'd thought.
He got out of his car, umbrella held open above his head, and called to the trio across the road:
"Hey, everything okay over there?"
He still didn't make any move to cross over. There was something about seeing her again, so close to yet another grisly murder, that was making him hesitate. And a part of him, a strange, unfamiliar part, wanted to know if she could recognize him at this distance.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 29, 2010 15:57:26 GMT -8
Atticus had opened the back door of his car, for Willie, probably, when a fourth car pulled off onto the opposite side of the road. The driver climbed out, umbrella open above his head, and called out to them. And her breathe was taken away by surprise.
I know that voice...
The realization of just who it was standing across the street stunned her. As did the sheer amount of joy that thrummed through her at it. It had been a long time since she’d seen him, and the circumstances had been... less than good ones. Memories flashed through her mind.
Blood streaming down her mother’s desk.
Standing in the doorway of the room, tears streaming down her face.
A tall blond FBI agent introducing himself to her, almost gently.
Charlotte tilted her head, trying to make out the man through the pouring rain. In case I’m wrong. She didn’t want to be wrong. She drifted a few steps toward him, as if drawn. It was a lucky thing there were no other cars coming, because she ended up on the edge of the road. Her mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, and the beginnings of a stunned grin had appeared on her face.
“David?” She’d meant to call him Agent Henning, or even Mr. Henning. Something less... familiar. But the surprise and happiness at seeing him again had caused her to say something quite different from what she’d intended.
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Nov 29, 2010 21:31:41 GMT -8
Playing their past encounter by ear, doo dee doo!
The delighted question in her voice as she said his name almost made Henning want to laugh out loud, but it seemed horribly inappropriate. The last time he'd seen her in person was in the back of a receding car, being driven home by Agent DiMera after the Bureau declared her mother's case closed and her presence at the field office no longer officially needed. Before she left, he recalled saying something stupid like "No case is ever really closed, Charlotte. It's just another way of saying we're still waiting for more evidence to come in," but he could tell she hadn't bought it, even though she'd pretended to for his sake. After that he'd stayed in contact a few times, mostly to help out with the selling of the house and the legalities involved (it was a recent crime scene, after all), but that had been the extent of their communication after the trail went cold.
Henning had figured she probably associated him with her mother's death and would prefer to put him out of her mind forever, and he wouldn't have blamed her. But she seemed so happy to see him now. Nobody he'd had to deal with when it came to homicides had ever looked happy to see him before. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.
"Charlotte Jacobs!" he exclaimed, and allowed himself a tight, awkward smile that gradually eased up as she came towards him. She was wearing a leather jacket and he could barely see her eyes through the water drops covering her glasses. "What an incredible coincidence! What on earth are you doing here? No, wait, don't answer that right away. Take my umbrella, I've got a slicker on. That's it. So what's going on? Is something wrong with your car? Who're your friends over there?"
He was peripherally aware that he might have asked a few too many questions and possibly in the wrong order, but for some reason that didn't seem to matter. He genuinely wanted to know the answers to all of them. In the meantime, he would have to concentrate on not saying anything related to Vanessa Jacobs, which formed the bulk of what he remembered before the subway attack.
The rain dripped cold and uninviting down the back of his neck, but he hardly noticed it.
|
|
A Deadly Premonition fansite