royalpassport | IC: CONTACT (THE PINES)

_{[It takes a while for him to suss out the right number, and even longer for him to find a quiet moment alone in the house to figure out how to use the phone system. It's not the same as teknology in Rubrum--and it's because Jack can now tease apart the differences between Wayward Pines and home that he's doing this at all.

Anything that can bring him closer to home feels worth doing, however small.

So he dials. After a mildly confusing conversation with the person manning the motel's front desk ("I'm looking for that dude who runs the tea shop" isn't as helpful a descriptor as a name or an exact room number, funnily enough), he's directed to a room. Ring ring, phone call for you!]}

Hey there. Is this the guy who runs Go Ask Alice? Jefferson. Jefferson's who I'm looking for.

Edited (now with new and improved logistics) 2017-03-17 03:18 (UTC)

[ There's a bit of a pause before he responds, mainly because Jefferson isn't used to getting calls here at his motel room. After letting the silence stretch for perhaps a bit too long, he answers, voice cautious: ]

This is Jefferson.

_{[No one's saying anything... Hello? Should he say hello? What's the protocol for talking to strange civilians in a strange town when you have equally strange questions in mind?

--Oh, there we go. Someone's talking! And it's the same voice he remembers from his misguided visit to Jefferson's business, which reassures Jack he's got the right guy.]}

Oh good, it's you! Hey, hi. Yeah, so I was hoping to talk to you.

_{[Duh, Jack, that's why you're making a phone call.]}

This is Jack. Maybe you remember me: blond, blue-eyed, gets into staring contests with menus? If you have a minute, I need to ask you something.

[ It's a good thing Jack can't see the totally dubious look on Jefferson's face right now. He's just sitting on the edge of the bed, on the ugly, scratchy, floral-printed comforter. Who ever wants to talk to Jefferson-- at least, besides the very small handful of people he can call his acquaintances. And he has to assume this has nothing to do with his shop, since he's being called at the motel.

So... ]

You're not selling something, are you?

_{[Dubiousness is perhaps the reasonable response to the amount of peppy good cheer coming through the phone right now. Jack laughs in a "fair question but I'm going to treat it like a joke and laugh anyway" manner.

If he was selling something, at least he might be making money which he apparently needs to feed himself here. He's never worked to support himself in his life--not in the conventional sense. He remembers the all-expenses-paid ease of a military allowance with fond longing.]}

No, no, I'm trying to give away money if I can. _{[It's a near thing, but he stops himself before he substitutes the more commonly used "gil" instead. He doubts the phone line is all that secure.]} It might sound weird, but I need to get a uniform fixed up. It's seen better days, kind of torn up and stuff. I thought maybe you'd know someone who could do that.

[ Give money away? All right, that seems to warm him up to this conversation already. Almost like Jefferson used to be a pretty mercenary individual, in another life... ]

Ah. You thought I might know a tailor.

[ Is it really so unreasonable an assumption, considering it's correct? In a manner of speaking, anyway. ]

I do my own tailoring. How much mending does the uniform need?

I had a feeling you were the person to ask. And you look the part!

_{[On the opposite side of this meeting of fashionable minds, Jack has little to no interest in rationing the resources left over from his "old" Wayward Pines life and what the welcoming committee gave to him. Jefferson can have it all if he knows a way to give Jack his uniform back.

It's more than just cloth or armor--it's what it represents. He's not a townie and he wasn't wearing it in some mundane accident. They can give him memories, but they can't take the truth away.]}

You do!? _{[Someone sounds excited he may be closer to his goal than he thought.]} Well, the good news is the armored coat's black, so... that's an easy thread color to match, right? It's durable material, but, um. The accident-- _{["The accident."]} --ripped it in a few places.

Oh yeah, and I guess I bled on it. A bit. But I'm working on that.

[ A little bit of a pause, then: ] Armored coat?

[ And here he thought Jack was looking to get-- who knows-- a Boy Scout uniform mended, or something. But a bloody armored coat, that's... unexpected. He'd ask what exactly this uniform is for, but... the notices. It's hardly worth the risk when he isn't all that invested. ]

You might want to take it to a cleaner before I take a shot at it. I'm not in the habit of cleaning bloodstains out of clothes.

Yeah. Is that important? It's a cadet uniform.

_{[There's a gap at the end of the last sentence that would allow for more of an explanation if he gave it, but he stops. Sounding cheerfully absent-minded as he often does isn't the same thing as being absent-minded, not like this, not talking with someone. It could spell trouble for both of them, and he's not trying to put extra eyes on this guy.

He does, however, laugh at the suggestion, imagining getting near a stranger's bodily fluids must be a hell of a gross thought for someone unused to it.]}

Yeah, I only handle blood from my friends or close acquaintances, too. Don't worry, I'll do my best to clean it up first. Does this mean you can take the job?

IC: CONTACT (THE PINES)

March 15 | voice

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