( SETTING INTERACTION. )

[silentspringmods]

Non-Event Explorations


As of 2/3/24, this is the new page where all character interactions with the setting/explorations/etc unrelated to events will reside. Here are some examples of the types of things to post on this page:

- My character would like to search the library for xyz, would they find anything?
- My character is going to approach an NPC outside of an event and do xyz, what happens?
- If my character goes asking around for x, what will they be told?

Examples of things that should still go on the FAQ:

- What kind of books does the library have on x topic? (Character is not specifically searching the library IC).
- Does the town have x facility?
- Is my character able to do x?

And, when in doubt, it's fine to just post the question on your best guess and I can move it as needed!

Comments

WRENCH'S INTERROGATION.

[silentspringmods]

[wwrench]

Once he's accepted that their fates are mutual and they're put into the squad car together, Wrench is going to be relatively docile for the ride. If his hands are cuffed behind his back he's going to be pretty annoyed with that and will likely do some light twisting around, but nothing much to give the impression he's trying to escape. If he's cuffed from the front he'll be signing to Numbers as much as he can. Nothing much, just a little bit of, It's fine, nothing new, we got this. And also probably holding onto Arthur so the dude doesn't go flying around any tight corners.

He'll have a moment of displeasure when they're led off separately. Particularly when his path diverges from Numbers. He might yank or try to pull away and go with his partner, but when he sees that's futile he'll let himself be led into the room.

Wrench would give a cursory glance at the room's staging, but he's not going to touch. He'll just sit and wait for whoever's going to interrogate him and how they think that's going to go.

[silentspringmods]

His hands are, indeed, cuffed in front of him. He's left to wait in solitude for about thirty minutes in the clockless, unremarkable room before the police chief, Dick Clark, enters the room with Norman Pollock tailing behind him holding a black leather doctor's bag in one hand. Both remain standing; Norman watches him with annoyed indifference, while Dick sets down a pen and a steno pad on his side of the table and leans forward, staring him in the eye and putting his weight on fingertips spread across the edge of the table to bring them closer to eye level without sitting himself.

He scratches something out in loose but not necessarily sloppy hand; it's readable, but clearly belongs to someone who never really bothered to learn proper penmanship.

You're in big trouble, Mister.
It's in your best interest to cooperate and help us understand what's going on here without taking up Dr. Pollock's time.

He spins the pad around and slides it and the pen across the table.

[wwrench]

Wrench is a natural at dissociation. After he's mentally catalogued the contents of the room, he just waits. Until he catches the movement of the two men entering the room, he stares at his hands. When they come into view, he looks up. He keeps leveling the same detached gaze at Dick right on through the man's attempt at intimidation, but when the pad and pen are presented, the corner of Wrench's lips quirk for just a second.

"Mister?" Come on, Dick. Do you want to wag your finger, too?

Much as he can with the handcuffs still in place, Wrench picks up the pen and writes his affirmation under the other man's line.

Okay.

There's an incredible chasm between cooperating and making things easy, isn't there?

[silentspringmods]

Why don't you start by telling us what happened?

[wwrench]

Enough rope to hang himself with, then. Wrench glances at the question on the page, then up at the expectant faces of the doctor and the chief of police. He knows by now what these men are capable of. He's seen the aftermath of their so-called interrogations more than once. There's no part of him that's eager to know Numbers or Arthur might be headed for that fate again. Could he prevent that, or is it already too late? Did they start their questions with him?

It's not a crime to want to leave town for the day, is it? You can't hold an entire city in lockdown when we haven't done anything wrong.

His handwriting probably doesn't match the time. It's casual and loose, but neat. It loops into itself in the kind of half-script designed for fluidity and utility.

[silentspringmods]

Dick casts a bland look in Norman's direction. Norman doesn't show any outward indication of emotion, other than the vague consternation and annoyance that is already there.

I can't think of a single reason to want to leave a town like this unless you were up to something, and from the looks of it, you were. Sweetwater has everything you need right here.

Let's talk about the vehicle you stole. Why not just use your own car, Mr. Smith? My officers told me you left it in the driveway.

[wwrench]

Despite all of Wrench's best efforts at cool detachment, he does scan the page as Dick's handwriting emerges, like he's either too curious or too impatient to wait for the man to finish his writing. In all the interrogations he's sat through in his life, this effort to get him to speak on his own behalf is certainly new. He wonders what would happen if he asked for a lawyer. Wonders when Miranda rights first became a thing.

With the doctor standing right there, Wrench doesn't expect that matters.

My vehicle's not in shape to get me too far.

Is he needling at them with that? Wrench thinks, at least, it's a response that grants some plausible deniability.

[silentspringmods]

Dick furrows black brows, eyes faintly narrowing at their edges.

And how far were you planning on going? Why not see a mechanic and take the bus?

[wwrench]

Hadn't planned the full drive. Thought I'd see where the wind took me. He can tell he's playing at the edges of Dick's nerves with his non-answers, and Wrench isn't sure how long either man will stand for this. Will they simply cut him loose, or is he bound for the same kind of treatment both Numbers and Arthur have made mention of before?

The last thing Wrench wants is to have this come down upon the other two.

We both know there's no bus coming that will take us out of town, is there?

Some of us have people we'd like to see who aren't in Sweetwater. I can't call them on the phone, can I?

[silentspringmods]

I don't know what you're talking about. If your telephone isn't working, you should have had someone out to fix it.

As for your little day trip, I think we both know that travelling across the country in the middle of a nuclear threat isn't the brightest idea unless your plans also include spending the day sheltering in a roadside ditch when the missile comes.

[wwrench]

Wrench doesn't manage to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. It was a cheap effort, but somehow he'd expected it to have a little more impact. Moreover, it's likely that anyone who has seen him around town knows he's never bothered to learn to use that portable device anyway.

Have you ever heard of cabin fever? Has the doctor? Confinement makes people act differently.

[silentspringmods]

Of course I've heard of Cabin Fever. The situation we're in isn't ideal, but we're all confined by the Red Threat until the communists let up. That's why we have community. Look, Wrench, why don't you set up an appointment with Dr. Casey? You don't seem the criminal type. Maybe you just need a vacation. Some R&R, time to mow the lawn and sit on a deck chair by the pool for a week. Talk to a professional. Get your head right. Do some projects around the house. That sort of thing.

[wwrench]

It takes everything in him not to laugh as he reads that message, and Wrench spares a moment to look up from the page and stare directly into Dick’s eyes. These men know more about him than they’re letting on, don’t they? Isn’t that what Arthur has been insisting this whole time? So how can Dick make that kind of claim so earnestly? Is it true, somehow? Removed from the world that shaped him, does he actually manage to pass as upstanding?

There’s just no fucking way.

Maybe. A project might be a good idea. Idle hands, you know what they say.

As if his own words could be a cue, Wrench lays down the pen and rattles the handcuffs. He raises a brow at Dick, like maybe now that all this is settled he doesn’t really need to be restrained any more.

[silentspringmods]

You’re learning carpentry, aren’t you? That’s what your dossier said. You should be at work right now, not terrorizing innocent truck drivers and the greengrocer. Building something. Improving your community.

A pause. Dick frowns, thick brows lowered, mouth a hard line.

The good people of this town could press charges if they wanted to. I’m of the mind that it could be better to have you help them out around the store to make up for what you’ve done and restore some peace to the neighborhood. I think you could stand to have more to do. Keep your mind occupied so you don’t get into so much trouble. Besides, school’s going to be back in session soon. They’ll need the help.

[wwrench]

This time Wrench doesn’t quite manage to contain his reaction. A burst of derisive air escapes through his nose before he can stop himself. He looks from Dick to Norman and back again. Bagging groceries to make up for pointing a gun at a delivery driver? He wonders if they know he’s never worked a legitimate job a day in his life.

He wonders if they know they just handed him a possible key to getting more information about this place. He won’t even have to sneak around this time.

You want me doing community service? Projects around the town?

OK. Maybe we count the hours to my apprenticeship?

[silentspringmods]

Dick huffs a sharp, disbelieving exhalation through his nose, narrowing his eyes and regarding Wrench with an expression that conveys sentiment without need to write: ’Are you kidding me?’

No.

You’re not getting brownie points for mandated community service. You should be thankful you’re not spending the night in jail. And it’s not too late for that, I might add. Don’t try your luck, Mr. Smith.

[wwrench]

Okay, okay, okay. Wrench raises both hands in a placating gesture of surrender. He might be a little coy to make eye contact with Dick this time around, looking up at him from a hunched position like he could make himself seem a little shorter. But Wrench does grin when he meets Dick’s eyes, and gives the man a little shrug like he couldn’t help but shoot his shot.

Then he rattles the cuffs again, and makes a motion with the small amount of slack he’s been given as if to cross his heart. He’ll be good; he promises.

[silentspringmods]

Dick doesn't seem amused. Neither does Norman, who stands behind him with his arms folded, visibly annoyed.

You'll report to Mr. Baker on Saturday, and he will be keeping me informed of how you're doing. Don't try anything this time.