Location(s): Rókur's apartment in Argyle boulevard.
Interactions with: Jasper from The Tourists
Minutes after Rókur had hastily made his return home, a familiar scene took place at his front door. A bright light shined underneath it for a brief moment, before dimming down just as fast. The door opened, and rather than the usual apartment hallway, the other side was now a bizarre place filled to the brim with just-as-bizarre supernatural beings - and no shortage of humans among them.
Out through the door stepped a very, very
short imp of a man. Pale grey skin, bald head, very angular facial features with a long nose and pointed ears. Rectangular glasses rested before his pitch black eyes. He was dressed in a small leather coat, usual formal wear underneath. A pair of small, seemingly non-functional wings adorned his back, as well as a pointed tail, all sticking out through expertly made holes in his clothes.
“I know you thought you’d never
hear this…” The little imp said as he shut the door behind him, “But I apologize for my tardiness, Rókur.”
Rókur had been busy reading the Santa Celia herald, a ‘newspaper’ if one wanted to put it that way. More educated and experienced people however had another word for it: Yellow press. Anyway - it was something to go on and to maybe even learn from. And it was cheap and available even for free sometimes.
When the bright light suddenly appeared beneath the door he knew that today’s archery training had to be canceled. With a slight groan he heaved himself out of a lounge that had already been kinda clapped-out when he had rented the room, but now after one year of regular use by him was next to collapsing completely.
Someone had told him that staring down at people was unfriendly, and experience told him that one should not mess around with any member of the tourists, no matter how… ridiculously small from one’s own perspective. So Rókur crouched, offering Jasper his hand for a greeting and trying to put up a gentle smile. His nose still looked as bad as it had right after the crash, but he didn’t care."Well… I’d say apology accepted. Never thought I’d get the opportunity to say this…"
“Things are crazy at the Center today.” Jasper replied, only very briefly accepting Rókur’s offer of a handshake before stepping further into the apartment. “People running around, slamming into each other. Thought I was going to be trampled several times.” He didn’t sound very amused at all about the events.
“Doesn’t matter. Here now. Go ahead and tell me what-” As Jasper turned his head to give Rókur a proper look, he finally noticed the giant man’s damaged nose.
“Good Lord, what happened to you?” Jasper asked."Erm… car accident."
Rókur replied without truly thinking about his words. The door had been given a slight punch and thus closed by itself behind his back. "Big car. Don’t know why people buy those. It hurts quite a bit but I think it is under control. Definitely way better than being trampled upon I’d say."
“Get down here.” Jasper said sternly, pointing at the floor while maintaining eye contact.
For a brief moment Rókur considered his options, then apparently decided that it would be best to just follow suit. He sighed, then put his hands onto the floor and approached Jasper halfway crawling. "Is this low enough ?"
“Yes.” Jasper responded, as he proceeded to grab Rókur’s nose and quickly snap it back into proper formation.
A burst of pain surged through Rókur’s undead body, causing the man to emit a short, but nevertheless quite loud outcry. At least this kind of treatment had come as a surprise.
“Walk it off.” Jasper said with zero
inhibition. “You’ve suffered plenty worse.”"I’ve also been used to cry out way louder than that. How do you think did we try to keep thousands of warriors under control on the battlefield ?"
Rókur answered in protest.
“Much more barbarically, I’m sure.” Jasper replied as Rókur raised himself off the floor. “Now, I’m afraid I don’t have time for the usual game of twenty questions. I’m taking it from the looks of things, you haven’t done anything to warrant unwanted attention, so I’m marking you down as satisfactory in that regard. Now, listen up…”
Jasper took a straight-up stand before Rókur, looking up at the man towering over him.
“I’m going to be busy for a while with some… meetings, between the Tourists and other parties. I won’t bother you with the fine details. But for that duration, I won’t be around to make the usual visit. Fortunately, there’s a couple people around who can
Jasper opened up one of his coat pockets and pulled out two slips of paper - photographs. One was of a finely dressed, bespectacled man with an unreasonable amount of hair. The other was a woman with much more kempt features.
“Kyle and Kayla Foster. They got here yesterday, charged with keeping an eye on the city, cleaning up trouble areas when they can. For the time being, I want you to get into contact with them and just let them know how things are going - you don’t have to be their friend
or anything, unless that’s what you want, but it’s not my call. Just meet up with them or make the occasional phone call. That sound doable?”
Rókur arranged the two photographs between his thumb and the side of his index finger like a very humble set of cards, then looked at the two people to be seen on them. "I don’t have to be their friends?"
was his first reaction, accompanied by a very questioning and worried stare at Jasper. "That doesn’t sound very… inviting? Well, doesn’t seem like I’d have much of a choice does it?"
“They’re field agents!” Jasper responded, “They get into messes, they shoot their guns and, fling their spells around- look, I don’t want you getting caught up in anything crazy, alright? Beyond that, It doesn’t matter how you associate with the two, just so long as you maintain weekly updates on… things
One really couldn’t say that Rókur’s facial expression was anywhere close to complete satisfaction, but he seemed to ease up a little. "So I’ll try not to push my luck and meet up with them while they happen to be in the field, but when things are more relaxed. One question though… How do they recognize me ? I mean… anyone could call them if he or she has the numbers and I could as well fit their definition of hostile to be eliminated or ?"
“Tell them Jasper sent you, and that I’m a friend of Crane’s.” Jasper replied, “That’ll be enough for them, trust me.”
Rókur let go of another sigh, then replied "Okay. I got it. Let’s just hope they don’t blow my head off, alright ?"
“If I know these two well enough by their files, they have their heads screwed on right enough to not just attack every supernatural thing in sight.” Jasper said, as he walked by Rókur and towards the door, removing another something from his coat pocket as he went. “I have to get going. I trust you’ll be fine from here on out?”"I’m trying to -- and frankly speaking I’d say I haven’t been that bad at it for the last year. Just my opinion. Otherwise I guess it depends on your bureaucracy being right."
Rókur stated with reference to said files
. "You know I am probably one of the most primitive men in this city, but at least I can claim to have enjoyed a world without some of those modern… inventions!"
“You don’t have to enjoy the modern world Rókur, you just have to live in it.” Jasper said as he held up a large rubber stamp and pressed it against the door, emblazoning it with a mystic rune of some sort. The rune glowed, and once again a bright light shined beneath the doorframe.
Rókur watched closely as Jasper apparently was preparing for his departure. Some part of him truly wished he could pull off that kind of stuff, another part however was quite happy about how things were. Both sides of the coin probably had their advantages or at least so he hoped. A squeak could be heard from behind the couch -- apparently the few rats he had captured this morning were getting nervous about all the light. Not for long though… soon they’d be consumed.
“Do take care of yourself.” Jasper said, halfway sincerely, as he opened the door back to the crazy place from whence he came, “Let the Fosters know to contact the Center if you need anything.” And with that, he passed through the door, shutting it behind him. The rune quickly vanished as the bright light returned and then diminished once again.
Rókur kept looking at the door as it returned to its normal state as if nothing had ever happened. After a few seconds the rats squeaked again, pulling him out of his state of wondering and astonishment. Time to eat
, or at least to perform his definition of it. His colossal arm reached behind the couch and grabbed the improvised cage, putting it on the floor in front if him. From then on Rókur just kept staring, watching as the humble creatures started to panic for an unexplainable reason. Others would have cried out and called the exterminator. For him this was a small feast.