She'd had to stop off at a gas station to find the address in the phone book, and then had taken another fifteen minutes to find the street on a map, and figure out where she was in relation to where the Red Zone was.  It wasn't so much that it was hard for her to find as...well it takes a while to orient ones self even with the aide of a map in a new place.  The way her thoughts wandered certainly didn't help...

What if they did get to the Prince?  What if he's helping them?
No.  Cola wouldn't have done that to me...he wouldn't.
Why not?  Anyone else would...
He wasn't anyone.
How do you know?  Do you even remember
Stoppit.
Why?  It's not like they wouldn't do that to you.


She pushed breath out of her lungs.  It was unnecessary and pointless...but she did it anyway as she pulled into a parkinglot near the Red Zone.  A small whisper escaping her lips meant for no one and nothing...just the need to hear what went through her head with her own ears.

"I'm going to find them first this time...going to make them stop."
sure.

She almost forgot.  Almost.  She unzipped her backpack and then took a few moments to write something else in her little book.

[size=1]Spoke with Prince of Sanfield.  I can stay.  Going to the Red Zone to find Tommy Jones.  He should be able to help me find out where I ought to feed, and what places ought to be avoided.  They're still out there.  I just don't know where.[/i]

She tucked the book away back into the backpack and climbed out of the vehicle.  She wasn't dressed for a night out on the town...but then she hadn't brought many things with her.  Approaching the building she shook her head, another little whisper of familiar sound, her own voice finding it's way to her ears..."It's going to be fine..."

She climbed out of the car and started for the entrance.  Tucking her hair behind her ears as she slipped in...Tommy Jones...rediculously dressed Torreador..  That could describe the entire club scene in New York, or Los Angeles, or well anywhere that people didn't dress like hookers and 'I wishI were a pimp' tools.  She kept the thoughts in the back of her mind as she moved further in, perhaps looking a little lost or out of place, definately uncomfortable and uneasy....then again, what was the standard of normal among the damned?

Even if I don't find him...THEY'RE here somewhere...aren't they?

2009-02-08 01:24:40 Gwendolyn rolls 4 dice to Percep/Alert Tommy??? 10,10,10,1 (2 successes)  

--Last edited by gwendolyn on 2009-02-08 01:25:13 --

It will take a few minutes of observation in the sky bar but Gwendolyn should narrow down her targets to just two men. Definitions of ridiculously dressed are a matter of preference so she will have to choose beetween them. Both are young, attractive men, both seem to draw a crowd of tasty young women with the ease a Toreador in a place like this would be known for.

One man sits in the back of the skybar in a darkened booth. He wears typical club clothes, expensive but entirely tasteless; embellished jeans, big boots, a button up shirt in black with a large white tattoo looking cross across his shoulders. Over the back of his chair is a fur lined, pornstar-wanna-be jacket. He is currently entertaining a trio of trashed looking blondes.

The second man who seems to fit the bill looks a bit younger, more refined. His expensive clothes and well groomed hair are enough to set him apart from most of this casual-chaos crowd where he sits at the bar with a cluster of dark and attractive brunettes.

Which of these men is Tommy Jones is Gwendolyns guess.

No one wore name tags at places like this...She chewed at her lower lip a bit.  Gwendolyn was quite sure that one of them had been sent there to distract her.  Her mind went back to the book she left in the car...No, I'll come back if they...  The thought trailed off...she sucked in a breath of air and held it in her lungs for a moment...

then her eyes shifted back and forth between the pair...

Ink...
Eyes on the man in the booth..
a bink...
Eyes on the man with all the women...
a botte
Eyes back on the man in the booth...
of ink
Eyes back on the man with all the women...
Cork
Man in the booth
Fell out
Man with the small harem
and you...
Her eyes lingered on the man with the man in the booth with the blonds...
Stink
Her eyes shifted over to the man with the brunettes...

She shook her head and murmured, "Don't want the one that stinks...  It was a childish nursery rhyme, and it really would have been a different result had she started on the man with the brunettes...but she hadn't.  She closed her eyes shut and headed towards the man entertaining the blonds in the back skybooth...

Her voice was quiet...and she paused a bout seven inches or so from the booth..."I'm looking for Tommy Jones?"  Right or wrong...well she couldn't say without asking could she?  

--Last edited by Gwendolyn on 2009-02-09 12:11:51 --

Every set of eyes in the circular booth will turn to look at Gwendolyn when she interrupts whatever they were all cackling and spilling drinks about. The booth smells like spilled gin and cigarette smoke. One of the blondes with a bit of white powder in her cleavage snakes an arm around the man in the booth possessively.

'Tommy Jones doesnt know you, why you lookin for him?'

The man in the black shirt says as he looks Gwendolyn up and down. Shes definitely not one of his heroin seeking regulars. Hes dipping into the meth crowd lately too, maybe shes one of them...

She chose her words carefully...public place and all...her lips folded in on themselves and her eyes shifted to the table top, her gaze not meeting him or those belonging ot any of the women with him.  "A...P...Mister Carter Vanderweyden, told me to find him."

She caught herself before she made any sort of monumental blunder...but still shifted where she stood nervously.  Of course Tommy Jones doesn't know me...I don't know him. Do I?  No, no I don't.

The mention of that name always gets Tommys attention. He narrows his eyes on Gwendolyn for a moment before he calms down. He settles back against his pornstar jacket and returns the arm around the possessive blondes neck.

'Is that right? Well then maybe you aughta have a seat.'

Tommy gives one of the people at the edge of his booth a look and they will slide right over for GWendolyn to join the odd little gathering.

'You obviously dont work for Zaine, so whats Vanderweyden sending you to look for me about?'

In dropping the third person act Tommy easily reveals that he is in fact who she was seeking out. Curiosity won out over discretion in less than a sentence...

Timid?  Yes she was certainly that...she slid into the seat, still chewing at the corner of her lip every so often.  The expression on her face said that she didn't know who Zaine was, or how he was related to the Prince if at all.  

"I'm...newer in town, he told me to come see you, said you would help me find out where...good places for dinner and such are.  Like a guide."  Words certainly had to be chosen carefully in mixed company didn't they?  She tucked a strand of air behind an ear nervously...she could find her own way if she had to but, when the Prince of a city said...go talk to this person...you went and talked to that person.  No questions asked.

'Oh so im the fucking Phantom Gourmet now.'

Tommy snickers and is echoed by his inebriated little crew who mostly stare at Gwendolyn with blank eyes. It almost looks like Tommy wants to say No, but odds are the Crazy Prince told her to mention what is owed, and Tommy doesnt need that little bit of information getting too disseminated.

'Alright. Ill play that game.'

The girl with her arm around Tommys shoulder looks dissapointed, even jealous, but he will pass her something under the table and whisper into her ear before he slides out of the booth, dislodging two people to get to an edge.

'You just roll into town tonight?'

Tommy asks once they are both standing.

Gwendolyn's eyes didn't lift from the table top when she spoke, her attention rather clearly focused it would seem, right there.  She stammered out, "I'm sorry...I...I didn't mean to offend..."

She found her feet a few moments later, and her head moved in a nod as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, "Yessir, tonight...just a bit ago."  she confessed, still seemingly nervous about bothering him....and it was bothering...They wouldn't have laughed at me otherwise.

Tommy slings his fur collared, sleeveless jacket over his shoulders and replaces a pair of absurdly red aviators over his eyes.

'Well your in luck, I was just getting hungry.'

Tommy will motion for Gwendolyn to follow him, but he wont speak to her again until they have left the club and are out in the streets. Really he could have just said: 'Welcome to the red zone, the track marks are mine, the chanel bags are Valentines.' But hed rather let her move in on someone elses turf- not that he plans to disclose a location as such.

'So I dont think I caught your name..'

Tommy says once they are about a half block from the club.

Gwen followed him, but didn't press for conversation...she glanced over her shoulder once or twice once they were out, as if she were afraid that someone...or something...was following them.  Relax.  You haven't been here long enough for them to know yet.  Or have you?

Once he spoke, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.  She fiddled with the dirt under one of her nails as footsteps took her wherever it was he was leading her.  "That...would probably be because I didn't throw it out Mr. Jones."  She paused, as if she weren't going to actually give him such information and had forgotten what they were talking about all together.  She let the silence hang before she said, "Gwendolyn."  and then she fell to silence once more, paranoid thoughts starting to wonder at where they were going...and whether or not it was a trap of some sort.

'Gwendolyn.'

Tommy repeats. He halts in the yellow glow of a streetlight and turns to face her. Hunting with a new unknown kindred is an odd thing to do.

'So Gwendolyn whats a girl like you prefer to eat? We just left my preferred feeding grounds, but you didnt strike me as the doped-up vitae type.'

How does one explain something like...that.  She paused a moment and frowned, her mind stumbling through holes and patches of recollections before the words frothed through her lips.  "I don't have one I suppose.  I've always just sort of...taken what was given."

The frown didn't leave her face, the reluctant reality that she'd been sheltered from certain aspects of her existance rather thouroughly sinking in.  Why couldn't I have been hidden from the figments instead?  

'Well... There aint much given freely around here.'

Tommy tells her. Its odd for him to feel like someones elder. He wants to think shes just playing around, maybe trying to make him look foolish. Tommy will stalk real close and speak quietly. Nothing threatening, just information a passing Scourge, Sheriff or Sabbat would love to hear broadcast to half a block.

'But its less about the place and more about who you know. Your clearly no Nosferatu, Your kinda shy to be a Rose, like myself, you dont make my skin crawl like a Kook and you havent screamed vive le revolution! once yet so your no Brujah, your lack of a mercedes and general blasse attitude twoards the hunt means your no Ventrue and the simple fact your here at all eliminates the warlocks.'

Tommy clearly thinks he is quite clever. He doesnt even mention Gangrel because they arent part of shit anymore and get to do things like Defend parks noone gives a fuck about. Yay independence.

'So, Gwendolyn, my dear, what the hell are you and who do you know? Or are we really going to be stepping on some toes tonight?'

Her eyes moved on him, perseverated on his facial features for a long period of time, her mind plying over things.  What the hell am I?  A chaser of dark dreams?  Destroyer of things I created?  Insane?  All of that and more perhaps.  She didn't seem angry or agitated at his prying...as if some things were expected reguardless of where you were.

"Clanless, Caitiff...whatever else you'd like to throw in my direction is fine.  I'm not unaware of the drawbacks to failing to have family to stand with."  She made sure to keep her tone low...she knew better than to wag her tongue too loudly about...matters of the dead and damned.  "As far as you or anyone else is concerned concerned Mr. Jones...I'm a nobody...disposable by the standards of a great many for choices that weren't mine."  

Her eyes moved back over into the street, "As for who I know in Sanfield...I arrived outside of town earlier this evening. I had the pleasure of becomming aquainted with the Prince and now yourself."

Stepping on toes...she stepped on them by being.  She knew it.  But society as it is...they don't understand.  Even you don't understand Mr. Jones.  They're everywhere.  I have to find them, I have to stop them, put them back where they belong or destroy them entirely.  But you, won't understand that...no one understands that.

*She had been walking down the street to meet up with Tommy for a little dinner, funny how things work out, she just crosses the street when she spots them under the street lamp. Tonight little Teddy is dressed in baggy bondage pants, black with blue and red straps and zippers, a baby doll top with small blue neon skull and cross bones printed all over it, her hands are shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket as she walks* Yohoooo Tommy boy!

'Well then. Crushable toes await.'

Tommys face spreads into a grin a this news. The clanless are rarely so forward about their nature; this is fortunate for Tommy. Theres nothing he likes beter than slumming with the downtrodden. Tommy was about to launch into his list of dont go here's when he hears Teddy calling him out. This night just keeps getting better and better.

'Well Gwen, now youll know the three most important people in this city. This fiery little thing is Teddy. Teddy this is Gwen. Shes new in town...'

Indeed they did.  Gwen noted the grin, really there wasn't much point in hiding it.  She knew better than to claim to be something she wasn't.  There wasn't a single clan of Kindred that wouldn't be totally and completely pissed off at finding out that a Caitiff was playing 'lets pretend' at their expense.  She was allowed to stay in the city, at least for now...and that was what mattered the most.

Teddy? Like a bear?
Toy...
She's obviously not a toy...
Then what is she?
A trick?
No he knows her.
Maybe he only thinks he knows her.  Maybe they got to him already
Then why leave with him in the first place?
It's a trick.  Definately a trick.
A little late to realize something like that.
Run away run away!!!
Then they'll know I know they know that I know what they're up to.  They'll report back to the manipulative figments and then I'll be back where I started.
You're insane.
I am not.  Well maybe I am.
There you have it.
That's not fair.  I'm going to fix it.  I'm going to get them.  Just you wait.
We'll see.


Her gaze shifted over to the woman calling Tommy as she approached, and the corners of her lips tugged upwards in a little bit of a smile.  Not overly welcoming, but certainly friendly enough.  The tall woman's lips moved, and sound came out..."Nice to meet you."  

--Last edited by Gwendolyn on 2009-02-14 13:34:30 --

*She smirks and gives a grunt* Nice, she says, the chick doesn't know me, does she? *She chuckles and shakes her head, slips a hand out of her jacket and wraps it about Mister Pimp-Wanna-Be's waist and gives Gwen a once over* Tommy, she ain't one of your coked up bimbos *She observes and grins up at him* Who or what the fuck is she, and why are the low likes of you hanging out with her? *She turns to Gwen and gives the woman a small wink*

'Woah Woah Woah! Tommy J is in demand.'

Tommy grins ear to ear and rests a tatooed arm across Teddys shoulders.

'The big boss himself sent Gwen to me. Asked me to show her the town and see whose turf we can poach out tonight. The Zones a little crowded right now.'

Teddy will likely see right through Tommys bravado. Hes not a pimped tourguide, hes doing Carters bitch work again and trying to make the most of it.

'I was thinkin wed hit the flats or maybe see if the Banshee is open for buisness yet.'