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iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-03-08 09:42 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-03-08 09:42 amget your words out { 2025 } yahtzee tracking
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iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-03-08 09:42 am
SET #2: WORDS (FIVES) (mason)
i wanna walk through walls | murder train | 600
Mason arrives in front of his office door and is surprised to find someone lounging against the door frame. The man cuts a stylish silhouette in a slick suit, well-tailored and of the moment, though he can tell that it was recently done. He looks trim and professional, with dark hair and eyes focused on the newspaper in front of him.
Mason pauses, sliding his hands in his pockets before he speaks up. “Can I help you?”
The man blinks and looks up before glancing at his watch. “Punctual. I appreciate that already.” Mason raises his eyebrow again, before the man continues. “Virgil Claybourne. I’m here about the secretary position.”
“Oh.” Mason’s expression turns curious. “You aren’t what I was expecting.”
“I live to surprise.” Virgil steps back, giving Mason room to open the door to his office. He steps inside, leaving space for Virgil to enter behind him and heads to his desk.
“Do you have any reference letters?”
“I do.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope with his letters, before moving to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. “There are references in there from my last three roles.”
“Three?” Mason raises an eyebrow, looking him over. “You’ve had three roles already?” He seems fairly young. Why would he have to move around so many times?
“The first was a temporary role, filling in while the original secretary was out with an extended illness. Another from one who had a baby, and then the last role I actually held for the past five years.”
Mason nods, pulling them out and shuffling through the pages. “Why are you looking to change?”
“My employer is looking to retire. I thought it was best to try something new.”
Mason’s eyebrow raises again, sensing a slight twisting of the truth there, but he doesn’t push it for now. People have their reasons for moving on. It’s not his business, and it seems from the tension in his shoulders, Virgil isn’t looking to share it.
“So why me?”
Virgil tips his head to the side curiously. “Is wanting employment not motivation enough?”
“Your references are impeccable. Your employers clearly think the world of you. You could find employment at any upper-class law office or politician’s desk. Why work for a man who solves mysteries for a living?”
It’s clear the man is ambitious. Everything about his very presence says that he intends to do great things. So why wrestle with a man looking for small potatoes?
Virgil leans back in his seat, studying Mason just as much as Mason is studying him. He can see the way his eye for detail skirts over every inch of him, and he Virgil tips his head to the side. “I think what you do is important. And I appreciate you work for everyone, regardless of what they can pay you. I enjoy knowing that I’m working for someone with integrity.”
That ticks at one question itching in the back of his mind. Something about his previous employers lacked integrity. Mason would do his best to live up to what his reputation has made of him.
“Well, I need a secretary sooner, rather than later, and I would be remiss to turn down someone so highly recommended.”
Virgil brightens. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”
“Wonderful.” Mason reaches over to shake his hand. “I think we’ll work very well together.”
“You and I both,” Virgil nods with a smile. “Dare we say it’s the beginning of a beautiful partnership?”
Mason smirks before shrugging. “Suppose we’ll see what happens.”
diving too deep for coins | murder train | 600
Every so often, Mason trips over a gap in his own memory. He finds a spot where something is supposed to be and what is there isn’t quite right. For a long time he ignores them, assuming it is simply the cracks where memories have fallen through. After the train, however, he can’t help but retrace all of them, finding the corrected memories and doing his best to slot them into place.
It’s harder than he thinks. Harder to skip some of them and not mourn what changed, how relationships changed, and how things could have been different. All the work that Archeron put into alienating Gertie from all of them.
“Tea?”
Virgil’s voice draws Mason out of his thoughts, and Mason glances over at him, blinking in surprise. “Right. Please.”
Virgil pours the tea, before moving to sit across from him at the table. Mason reaches for his tea, taking a deep breath of the familiar scent.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Virgil prompts, taking a sip of his tea. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“I’m not sure,” Mason admits. “I’m not sure I would know how to explain it. How do you talk about all the little ways your life was altered and trying to figure out how to put all those pieces back into place?”
Virgil swallows as he considers him. “I’m not sure there is an easy way to do that. Archeron took things from you, and while you got them back, some things you now can’t change. Relationships you can’t get back.”
“Exactly.” Mason smirks as he sips his own tea. “Turns out you still know how to read my mind.”
Virgil laughs. “Working with someone, you get to know them pretty well.”
“I suppose you do.” Mason frowns. “Unless your employer plays with your memories to keep you all apart.”
“Are you worried about Gunther?”
“I think we’re all always worried about Gunther.” Mason sighs as he leans back in his chair. “But I’m also worried about Gertie. There’s probably a toll that comes with being the only one to truly remember everything.”
“Have you talked to her since the train?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve tried. Called her apartment and sent some letters, but she hasn’t responded.”
“Maybe she just needs more time.”
“Maybe.” Mason runs a hand over his face. “It’s all such a mess.”
“Yes, it is.” Virgil takes another sip of his tea before placing it down on the tray in front of him. “But you’ll all figure it out. You have the memories now. It’s up to you to decide what you do with them.”
Mason nods as he continues to ponder his options, before glancing up. “Do you think I should stop by her apartment?”
“If it will set your mind at ease, maybe. But I also think that she also has the right to her space.”
Mason nods again before offering him a smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there to listen.” There are feelings there that are hard to articulate, but Mason wants to try. “I know you’re my employee, but you’ve always been a good friend to me, Virgil. I appreciate it.”
Virgil pauses in gathering the tea tray, and Mason wonders if he’s crossed one of the firm lines that have existed between them. Lines that Virgil put there, and rightly so. He’s about to apologize for crossing it, before Virgil gives a small smile.
“You’re welcome. I have some filing to do, but after that, I’m heading home. Goodnight, Mason.”
Mason watches him leave before nodding to his back. “Good night, Virgil.”
now i don't take pleasure in a man's pain | murder train | 600
Gertie’s instructions are very specific. Pay a call on Gunther and the old man. See if you can get Gunther out of the house for a drink. See the clues and then try to convince him to walk away from the house. He does the first two, despite Archeron’s intense gaze, but the clues are still eluding him. At least until a few drinks are warming their bellies, and Gunther looks up at him curiously.
“So what brought you over? You don’t exactly make social calls with us anymore.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “I’m not allowed to visit my mentor?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying there isn’t precedent.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” He leans back in his seat, studying his friend carefully. The bags under his eyes, the sallowness of his skin—something isn’t right. He can see now why Gertie is upset and looking to get him out from under Archeron’s thumb.
“So? Why are we having this drink, Mason?”
“Gertie asked me to see you. I think she was trying to make sure that someone else is seeing what she’s seeing.” He grimaces as his fingers tease the edge of the glass. “And I’m thinking I am.”
Gunther blinks, looking confused. “I haven’t seen Gertie in months.”
“She said she saw you last week.”
Gunther’s brow furrows, trying to put two and two together. The more he tries, the more frustrated he gets, before he shakes his head. “Why can’t I remember anything properly?”
“Does this happen all the time?”
“I … I don’t know. It’s just that I’ll think things are one way, and then someone will correct me, and it’s like I’ve forgotten entire events. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Mason reaches a hand forward, gently placing it over his. “We’ll figure it out, alright? Gertie seems to think that Archeron or that house has something to do with it.”
“I don’t know,” Gunther sighs. “It might be medical? Like maybe something’s going wrong in my head.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“Archeron has needed me a lot lately. He’s been keeping me busy.”
“You need to take some time for yourself.”
“Hard to do that when you’re the only one left.” There’s an edge of bitterness there, something he hasn’t seen in Gunther before. Mason doesn’t like it.
“I’m sorry. But this is just a job, Gunther. You could just quit.”
A wave of emotion stirs over his face, trying to parse the different level of emotions that come with it. Mason can see he’s struggling with it and doesn’t rush him.
“I don’t know how to leave.”
“Maybe right now, we just don’t go back. You can come stay with me until you land on your feet. I can send for your things. A clean break.”
A desperate one, to be sure. Mason doesn’t know if it’s worth going to that extreme, but sometimes you simply need to walk away. Gunther doesn’t seem convinced.
“Give me some time to think about it. I don’t know if I could do that to the old man.”
“I understand.” Mason gives his hand a squeeze. “Why don’t we have another drink in a few days? You can let me know then.”
They agree, but when Mason arrives on their designated day, Archeron greets him at the door instead of Gunther. He winds up in the country, instead of having that drink. He doesn’t regain this memory until after Archeron’s death.
It’s hard to imagine how he never saw the problem staring him right in the face.
it's the terror of knowing what this world is about | murder train | 600
When Mason sees the way Gertie answers the door, he’s glad he didn’t bring Virgil with him. No one deserves to be seen like this, and Mason is almost ashamed that he’s here to witness it.
Her blond hair is astray, makeup smudged, and her blue eyes are unfocused, like she’s been drinking. And, in the most shocking turn of events, she seems to be dressed in something dare he say comfortable. Well-worn silken pajamas that are not intended for company surround her slim frame, and she adjusts her shawl to hide the worn parts.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“You didn’t answer my calls. Or my letters.”
“They say that a non-answer is in fact an answer.”
“Are you going to suffer my good intentions or are you going to leave me standing out here like an unwanted caller?”
“The latter is certainly tempting. But fine. Come in.”
The interior of her apartment isn’t any better. Various papers are strewn about. Trays with half-drunk tea or various other debris lie scattered.
“Where’s Brinkworth?”
“On vacation. I gave him the week off.” He gathers one tray, and she shoots him a look. “Don’t. That’s precisely where I want it.” She then immediately shifts topic. “Where’s your errand boy?”
“Working. Where I should be instead of trying to make sure you haven’t thrown yourself off the deep end.” He continues gathering trays, and she doesn’t stop him. “You look awful, Gert.”
“Flatterer.” Her face sours, and she gathers some papers. “Gunther won’t let me see him.”
“What? But you two—”
“I went down to the prison and was told that I was not an allowed visitor. And then I received a letter saying that he didn’t want me to keep waiting for him, or devote all my time to his defense.” Papers scatter from her hands and she slams her fists down in frustration, unable to avoid the crack in her voice. “After everything I did to—”
Mason’s trays join the papers on the coffee table and he sits next to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. It’s not the person she wants to be holding her, but he can stand in as a suitable substitute. “I’m sorry, Gert. But I also can’t say he’s wrong. No one knows better than us how hard you worked to get Gunther out from under Archeron’s thumb. But in the end, you couldn’t save him from himself.”
Gertie huffs. “I don’t know what to do now. If I’m not trying to get him out of prison then …”
Mason pauses, before picking up a calling card off the table. “What’s this?”
“O’Rourke gave them my name. Says they’re looking to form an organization to crack down on magical corruption. An excellent use for my particular set of skills.”
Mason nods slowly. “Maybe you should pay them a visit. See if it is something you’d be interested in.” Gertie frowns up at him and he explains. “You need to do something for you for a change.”
Gertie pauses, considering. “If I do, will you try to convince Gunther to at least let me see him.”
“I will drop by and see if I can ferret out something reasonable. But you need to actually make progress. Deal?”
She sighs before nodding. “You drive a hard bargain.”
He smiles before tucking her in closer. “If you go get cleaned up, I’ll take you to lunch at that spot you love? How does that sound.”
She glances up with the barest of smiles and nods. It’s not perfect, but for now it will do.
baby i'm only here for fun | murder train | 600
“You’re still here?”
Mason glances up at her with a grin. He knows the cue she gave him to leave when she left to go file her paperwork. His choosing to ignore it should be expected, but apparently Jo isn’t here to play today.
“I thought we could go for a nightcap.”
Jo arches an eyebrow before shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know you, and a nightcap is never a nightcap. It also becomes more nightcaps, and then dancing and then me waking up in the park at sunrise, unsure of how I got there.”
Mason pauses before pointing back at her. “But you can’t say you didn’t have fun?”
“No, I can’t. Because I don’t remember most of it.” She rolls her eyes. “Not tonight, Mason.”
“C’mon, Jo. Just one drink. I swear I will make sure you make it home to your intended destination.”
Jo holds his gaze for a moment, then sighs heavily. “One drink?”
“Just one.”
“No dancing?”
“Only if the sober mood strikes us.” He grins at her.
“You also buy dinner.”
“Done. I know a great place right around the corner from here.”
She pushes up to her feet and takes his arm. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“I make no promises in either direction.”
Mason wakes up with an uncomfortable taste in his mouth and a crick in his back, rubbing his eyes to make the pain of the light go away. With each blink, things seem to come blearily into focus, and he realizes that he’s sprawled on the couch in his hotel room.
He doesn’t remember how he got there.
His head whirls around the room, and eventually his eyes land on the bed, where Jo’s sprawled widthwise across it, still in her suit, and out cold. Relief surges through him. He at least held up the end of the bargain, where she doesn’t wind up in the park again. The problem is, he’s not sure how.
There’s a knock at the bedroom door and Jo jerks awake, hand going to her waist where he imagines her gun usually is, before she lets out a whimper of pain at the sudden light and buries her face in the comforter. “What? Where?”
“My hotel room.” Then to the door he says: “Come in!”
Virgil pushes the door open and offers them both an amused smirk. “You two look like hell. I brought you some recovery aids.”
“Bless you.” He reaches for the water first, and Jo inches closer to the bed so she can grab the cup of coffee.
“Virgil, how?” She hasn’t quite recovered enough for articulate sentences, but he answers all the same.
“Mason called me, said that if he hadn’t returned to our suite in two hours that you’d gotten carried away. He asked me to come retrieve you and ensure you made it back to the hotel safe.”
As he talks, the conversation bubbles up in his mind and he takes a few more sips of the water before nodding. “I owe you a raise.”
“That you do. But you said it would be worth it for the detective to not wake up with sticks in her hair.”
“You are a gentleman and a scholar.” Jo sips her coffee, her shoulders slowly relaxing. “Thank you.”
Virgil steps back out again to order them breakfast, and Mason glances over to her. “See? This wasn’t so bad.”
Jo grumbles. “Next time, we have lunch. There are no nightcaps at lunch.”
Mason laughs, before wincing as his hangover objects. “Deal.”