[D1 Late evening] Scratch This (Scratch Bar)

[Jean Wellspeak]

He sought out her eyes, well, at least two of them. Meeting the gaze of someone with more than two eyes was challenging to say the least. "Don't think anyone has any energy to get upset here." he replied with a huff. "Can't you..." Jean licked his lips as he sought for the right word. "Taste it? Feel it?" The Changelings were creatures of emotion - feeding on the emotions of others, sustaining their existence not only with food, but also with extreme emotions of others. "This place is, well..." he shrugged. "Not that lively."

"I am planning to go to a church first thing coming Sunday." Jean replied with a straight face. "I recommend the same for you, if you care for your immortal soul."

[Imogen Baker]

Despite the most outlandish looking one at the bar, Imogen was not exactly outraged but their situation but sort of found an understanding that this town wasn't going to be like Los Angeles. It was probably going to be a bit more interesting than just spending time in the barren wilderness. However, she supposed there was a certain expectation when people were around. "No, it's not the best. I could see why someone could go stir crazy with staying here but they've managed to make the best of it. I'm sure we've been through worse to do the same." She gave a hapless shrug on the matter.

"Yeah, I'll go," she said plainly. It was indeed part of her plans, although she never intended to go for worship but for her line of work. This was where she was bound to see the population in its entirety.

[Jean Wellspeak]

"Well, I've been here a night. You see the main road? That's all there is to this place." This time Jean had the common sense to lower his voice. Their earlier exchange had attracted few curious glances - and more than few pair of eyes, both male and female kept ogling at the duo. Imogen and Jean stuck out like sore thumbs in the bar. "Well, this isn't the other side, that's for sure." he chuckled, his tone now tad more friendly.

"Mhm, God looks after those who heed to his words." he nodded, his faith vast and deep as the great lakes. "I expect to see you there, then." The fact that there were two churches hadn't escaped him - however he was sure she meant the actual, catholic church. Jean had very little idea why heathens were allowed to practice their heresy freely. The laws and customs of the new world confused him, though he had come to the conclusion that the heresy existed to temp people, so that the purgatory could weed out the righteous.

[Imogen Baker]

"Yeah, I have..." She nodded slowly on that matter. It was obvious with the number of street lights here were brighter than some of the buildings after sundown. "But I'd think that would be fine with you. Was there much to do back then, even? I would have thought you would be asleep by now. I'm pretty sure that's what the locals are planning after they finish their pint."

"Mmhm," she murmured on the matter. The less she said about her own beliefs, the better. Or her history. She was starting to see why he might have been thrown out of a Freehold. If everything went well, Maize could keep him here.

[Jean Wellspeak]

"Well, Orleans was a bustling city of what, few thousand? Maybe more? Definitely bigger than this place." Jean insisted. "I mean, I've been to smaller villages, but after Montreal or Toronto, this place is rather dull. Well, Toronto was maybe bit too exciting. Some drunken hoodlum tried to punch me on the Young street." he explained. "So, I'll stay here a bit and then head to the west. I feel the call, whatever that means. I feel I have something to do there. A calling. Deus vult." he finished with a nod.

"So you said you'd seen few others of us? How were they?"

[Imogen Baker]

"It sounds like to me that you're becoming more accustomed to larger cities," she said with a few nods of note. Still, she didn't know what he would prefer larger cities when they are likely filled more with what he disapproves of and smaller places like this would be more of a stronghold to the ideal values he holds dear.

"You're going West then?" She said, withholding a shudder imagining what would happen to where he was going. It was likely the opposite, she should be more concerned about what happened to him. "I don't know how it's like in Toronto but I think they have more drunken hoodlums there waiting for you. And for some reason, I imagine it would be more wild there too."

"Mmm, there's another like me." She corrected herself after. "Not exactly like me. He's a private detective who managed to wander here for a vacation. He doesn't think it's a coincidence either and is interested in doing something useful. Marlowe, I think?"

[Jean Wellspeak]

"Yeah, kinda." he admitted. "I mean, it's all really confusing. " Jean waved his hand, unsure what he actually meant with that. "It's easier to hide in one. Well, they kept me indoors a month or so back in Montreal first when I had stumbled back. You know, I thought I was still there. Carts that don't need horses. Painting that look like real life. Moving pictures. Man made lights brighter than the sun. Noise everywhere, strange clothes." fiddling the collar of his shirt, the all too beautiful man sighed. "Besides figuring what all this means." he poked a dangling golden curl that his mask lacked. "And trying to forget things." Jead added, frowning.

"I think so. I think it's meant to be. San Fransisco first, then somewhere else." Despite having only vague idea of what he needed or wanted, the ancient man seemed to be full on conviction. "If it is more wild, so be it. God is with me and I can take care of myself." he assured Imogen. "I've killed Englishmen before."

"Private detective? Whose privates he is detecting and why is that a thing?" Both confusion and disgust flashed on his face. "How does he look like?"

[Imogen Baker]

"A man out of time," Imogen murmured with a few nods of her head. She imagined that Jean's circumstances weren't exactly unique, having heard stories of a few who came back at a radically different time. Five years seemed rather insignificant compared to what he had gone through. Even how Jean thought and acted, she didn't exactly feel too badly for him.

She couldn't help but look away as she took a long sip from her beer at his statement, nothing else to be said there.

"No," she said, surprisingly managing to keep a straight face. "He's just a detective for higher, someone who investigates things for pay or whatever. I think you can spot him with the trenchcoat, smokes camel cigarettes, sort of the hard-boiled type."

[Jean Wellspeak]

"Well, yes." he could only agree with her. "Water that magically runs to the houses. No-one dies to diseases any more. All the lights outdoors. You people have it so good here." Jean added eagerly. "It's strange, but it's not all bad. The king's men keep the peace. No-one is starving. There was this tavern in Montreal, ran by goodman Hortons. Or at least his name was above the door. Lots of people, good food. Didn't fancy the burning hot drink they gave to me, but their bread was good. It had these small crunchy pieces of meat in it. Really nice."

"Ugh. I don't get cigarettes. Smells awful. Bit like Montreal." he interjected. "No, I meant how he really looks." Jean nudged his head at Imogen, trying to point at her tentacles. "What sort of demonic form he has."

[Imogen Baker]

Demonic form...Talk about being spoiled, Sleeping Beauty. You are really lucky that I'm far nicer than I used to be. "I don't think it's my business to describe how another one might look. You'll see him when you see him. He's kind of obvious. But hey, maybe he's not exactly your type of company, maybe you'll be able to find someone who might like," she said with the assumption that there weren't other Lost in Maize.

"It's getting late. I'm thinking I should get going before it gets too late. I heard the night is dark and full of terror, after all," she said on a smug note.