Sixteen Bells: [WRITTEN/VOICE/ACTION]

[simplestgift]

[Filtered against known villains and Grell, 100% unhackable]

[The handwriting is disguised, and the picture obscured. The message is as anonymous as possible.]

If there is anyone returned from a kidnapping or being threatened who does not feel safe in his or her home, speak to anyone at the Welcome Center and they will direct you to a safe place to stay until things are better.

If you wish to volunteer to house someone, you will need a reference from a trusted member of the community.

[/Filter]

[A few minutes later, he uncovers the camera and starts a new message, spoken this time.]

Alexis Rodgers has been sent home. At least I assume as much--no one has seen her and her flat is empty. It's good.  She was very homesick, and...

[A pause. There's nothing really to say after that. He doesn't sound greatly distressed, but there's definitely a certain melancholy.

He'll be at the library this afternoon, and Good Spirits tonight. Missing Dawn, mostly. He'll occasionally walk through the item shop, killing time looking for little gifts to pick up for her.  At some point, he'll go see Ingrid in the clinic.  In the evening, he'll pay a visit to Jack Sparrow's house on the beach.  He's there to see Horatio, of course.]

Comments

[simplestgift]

I suppose so.

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

What's your favourite colour?

[simplestgift]

[What an odd question.]

Why, red, I suppose.

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

[We like to know these things.]

Red is a terrible colour. I don't like it at all.

[Never mind her pinafore is red.]

[simplestgift]

[He nods to her pinafore.]

Who made you wear that, then?

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

My mother made me promise to always wear red on Saturdays.

[simplestgift]

And why is that?

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

Because cars are frightened of the colour red, and they always hunt on Saturdays.

[simplestgift]

Is that supposed to mean anything?

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

I like to go out on Saturdays. And cars like to eat people.

[simplestgift]

And what is a car?

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

It's a big monster with teeth made of steel and travels very fast. They're not very nice. But people tame them sometimes.

[simplestgift]

[A slight chuckle. He's not sure whether to humor her or reprimand her. Instead of doing either, he simply asks for clarification.] What are they really?

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

[Huff.] What makes you think I'm making it up?

[simplestgift]

...Well, first of all, you asked me that question.

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

You mean about making it up?

[simplestgift]

You're not exactly protesting my accusation.

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

Would you believe me more if I did protest it?

[simplestgift]

I don't really know. I've been knee-deep in boys your age for years, though, and I can usually tell when they're telling stories.

[He doesn't say lying.]

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

Knee deep? Do you often get lots of childen on your sailing ships?

You are supposed to be in bed.

[simplestgift]

Oh yes. I was on a ship by the age of eleven.

Late notif, I suspect |D

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

Really? Were you a cabin boy?

[simplestgift]

Not really. Mostly, I ran powder.

[flicker-flash.livejournal.com]

Powder? [Nose wrinkling in puzzlement.] What kind of powder?

[simplestgift]

Gunpowder for the cannons.