pinesnet | (phone, May 20th morning)

[The memory that had returned to so many of them had shaken Laura something fierce; it was familiar, familiar in ways that were beyond what her hospital phobia amounted to, and now - now she's found herself brave enough to cut into her leg and find the tracker hidden inside. Of course, she'd been excited to remove it (and angry, of course, angry that it was even there), but that new energy was soured by waking the next morning and finding that same lump under her skin.

Well. She cuts it out again in the bathroom of the Howlett family, destroys the tracker again, and heads to the phone with icy disgust and offense that far surpasses self-preservation. (Especially when they go also arresting her teacher recently, she really likes her goddamn art class - and her sister, too, though?! Really guys?)]

There are trackers in our legs.

They come back in the morning if you destroy them.

[This message will be suddenly wiped from the phone-lines in three or four minutes. Maybe your character managed to catch it this morning before school, though.]

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[ Randel won't say anything back, but he is looking down at his leg, at the number of scars on his body, wondering which one may be hiding a similar tracker. There's enough marks on him that they could open one up and close it back up without him really knowing...

And now there's a them. There's distinctly a them. There's an echo of harsh laughter and shining glasses and as he puts the phone back down, he curls his arms around himself and thinks of Hans. He thinks of Hans and he wishes that his memories didn't flash back to a near-skeleton and too much blood and the taste of his own tears on his lips as he wept for his brother in arms.

Later, there'll be a promise to himself to try and find the girl who'd left the message, to talk to her. For right now, though, he's just going to curl into an exceptionally large ball and try to get a handle on himself.]

[Things here had been weird from the start, but over the past month, stranger and stranger events have been happening. From memories and realizations to his time spent following the Sheriff and hearing the peculiar mannerisms of the mayor, Rumlow is certain there's much more hidden beneath the surface. Just how literal that is somehow escaped him.

He's always had scars, and the bump on his leg hadn't exactly escaped his notice, but neither had it attracted it much. Figuring it was another left over from some fight. It's just his luck that he's been trolling the message board and phone lines to find something amiss. This message has him staring at the ground before him, the voice of a young girl echoing in his mind. Would he believe a child normally? Maybe not, but Rumlow has started to give a lot more credit to the unbelievable.]

Thanks, kid.

[It's all he can say. He wants to know more, but at the risk of being found out -- better not.]

Edited 2017-05-21 00:05 (UTC)

De nada.

[She's a curt and serious child, straight to the point.

Perhaps both a blessing and a curse when it comes to revelations, but today she's feeling rebelliously generous.]

[Hang in there, listening bud. :(]

[ who needs sleep? not eliza, as she's a magical being. ]

Ohhhhhh~! [ her voice rises in pitch, and there's a slight giggle at the end. ] Scary, scary!

Thank you.

[ It's not a voice she knows, but it's older, smooth and solid and the sort of voice that radiates trustworthiness. The tone? Quiet and serious, but not scared. It doesn't say anything else, but suffice to say that Kal will be paying closer attention to a lot of things now. ]

Edited 2017-05-21 00:16 (UTC)

[..............]

You're loud.

[My ears, leave them be, por favor.]

De nada.

[People should know about the bad things. The bad people.]

It's important.

[ n e v e r ]

Ah, you think so? This is my inside voice, too! I can be louder, if you want!

Your inside voice should stay inside your mouth.

[ He's using a phone, which he knows can be tracked, and it isn't as if there isn't voice software that exists to track who's on it. That's why he makes no bones about what he says next. If they give him guff about it, as careful as he's been to skirt the letter of the law, he'll deal with it then. ]

You're always welcome to call the fire department in case of emergency.

[ Not code, not exactly, but he hopes she can read between the lines. ]

Edited 2017-05-21 00:23 (UTC)

[Curiosity killed the cat. He fucking knows, and yet. Goddamn. Trackers? That's a big deal. That's worse than cameras. His brows furrow, now having to worry about whether or not his little trip after the Sheriff would be noted.

He wishes Spanish were closer to Italian. Hell, he'll give it a try. Throw some cognates in there and remember that Taco Bell chihuahua crap.]

Quieres más información?

[Jesus it's been ages since he spoke this -- course now she's gonna think he's fluent and reply. Dammit. Well, too late now.]

[ WTF THAT'S RUDE?? ]

That's mean! Don't be mean, you sound like you're twelve! [ and eliza has the maturity of a 6 year old, just ignore her. ] Why are you getting mad at me?

Don't be stupid.

[ Pietro sounds about 70% less certain and 100% more shaken than he's trying to pretend, but still: a jerk. ]

Why would there be trackers on us anywhere? What are we, lost pets?

[ as she closes her yes she's got to keep her mind from wandering and, therefore, wondering what else. combing her fingers through her hair she clutches the receiver and manages a soft spoken and barely audible thanks. it's only starting to sink in, but it's helping make sense of a lot of what's been happening recently. ]

[ ...Scott doesn't say anything over the line, but he knows that voice. Instead, he makes a note to himself to find Laura again to talk about this. It needs talking about. ]

Eres más tonto que un burro.

[Sharply, annoyed by his unhelpful presence.]

I cut it out of my leg.

... You're welcome.

It's good to know... an-a-tomy. School taught me.

[She stares at the phone for a long moment, considering the question.

Perhaps he's trying to be secretive. She can help with that, maybe, if he reads between lines.]

I can teach you better Spanish, if you want.

Helpful words, sí?

I'm eleven.

[So, you know. You're close.]

[There's some not-so-snazzy shit happening around here, friend.]

And you're dumber than a rock if you think I can't-- [ understand basic Spanish, but also: interrupt himself. ] --Why are you cutting things out of your leg?

[Huh... An offer of help if she needs it, perhaps?]

If there is a fire.

I'll remember.

Why are you leaving bumps on your leg?

[Oh. This is a clever girl. Very clever. Enough to notice a tracker, know what it is, and able to communicate under the radar? Damn. Where's she learn this?]

That'd be awesome. L'italiano è vicino, sì? Figure it shouldn't be too hard.

[And Hell, if they do share a little language learning as a cover, why not? Shit always comes in handy. Like now. 'Course now Rumlow's gotta find a way to hang out with a kid, ostensibly practicing Spanish while not getting overheard by the town surveillance. Eh. He'll figure something out. Or just speak purely in their respective languages and hope no one understands.]

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