A Beginner's Guide To Insects
| A Beginner's Guide To Insects | |
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| Players | Brownstone Apartments Gareth gives Solomon an update on his case. |
<TXT> From Gareth to Solomon: Dr. Jessup, my apologies for the radio silence. I had some other business to attend to, but had another associate continue surveillance. <more photos attached> she's okay. <TXT> From Gareth to Solomon: someone I trust to pick up critical surveillance tasks if I become unexpectedly unavailable <TXT> From Solomon to Gareth: Hm. Alright. Thank you for the photos. Nothing too terrible, I hope? <TXT> From Gareth to Solomon: it shouldn't happen again, my apologies. No, nothing terrible. <TXT> From Solomon to Gareth: it's fine. If it ends up not being fine, we'll talk about it then. I wonder if you would have time to sit down and discuss what you've seen. <TXT> From Gareth to Solomon: of course +----------------------+ Apt D - Brownstone Apartments +-----------------------+ This is a large, three-bedroom apartment on the second floor of the brownstone. The first thing one might notice walking in is a certain smell; it's difficult to place, but has a musty element to it. The second thing, almost certainly, is the terrariums. The living room has three large terrariums - one vertical in a corner, showing layers of foliage and dirt, one low to the ground, shrouded in perpetual shade, and one by the window, as large as a standard aquarium. The terrariums are elaborately designed and filled with plants from different biomes...and bugs. Colorful bugs, dark bugs, predatory bugs. The sound of bugs skittering through their leaves and dirt is a low, constant scrape on the nerves. Aside from the bugs, it's a nice apartment. The furniture is overstuffed leather, there's a small breakfast nook - the table only seats two, and it's clear that only one seat is usually used. The kitchen looks very unused. One bedroom has its own bathroom; this is the master, and it has a neatly made bed, dressers, and bookshelves. One bedroom is made up as a guest room; it's surprisingly pleasant and normal, although dusty from disuse. The third bedroom is...filled with more bugs. More terrariums of several different sizes, with exotic bugs. Shelves of things to FEED bugs are here, too, as well as all the materials needed to keep the terrariums healthy. It smells like fertilizer and chitin in this room, with a just barely detectable odor of rotting meat. +----------------------+ Apt D - Brownstone Apartments +-----------------------+ Maybe the fact that Solomon sent his address to Gareth and suggested they meet at his place is a sign that he's pleased with the private detective. Maybe it means he thinks he's gonna need privacy to deal with the body. Either way, the address goes to a rather nice apartment in a neat little brownstone in a good neighborhood; not one of the wealthiest, but solidly middle-class, with a lot of mid-career professionals - some married, but few with kids. The apartment is on the second floor, and the sun is setting by the time Solomon can get home, so he's only just arrived, and has shed his jacket and loosened his tie. Now, he's making the rounds of the terrariums in the place, and feeding the bugs that need to be fed - mostly the carnivorous or insectivorous species. He's got a small container of mealworms in one hand, and tweezers in the other, carefully placing the squirming bits of food on various rocks and branches in the enclosures to tempt out the residents. Gareth arrives, just a minute past the time they'd arranged. Perhaps Gareth is trying to make up for accidentally changing the parameters on Solomon! His hair is just slightly more askew than usual, fading circles under his eyes suggesting he's just getting back into a normal sleeping pattern after a period of disturbed sleep. He moves with his usual nervous energy, just a hair more pronounced than usual, his face drawn tighter. He hesitates, looking between the knocker and the doorbell, eventually settling on the latter. Solomon answers the door promptly as the perfectly ordinary bell rings, container half filled with squirming mealworms in one hand. "Mr. Evans. Please, come in." He opens the door, checking past Gareth like he expects the man might have brought friends. "Did you find the place all right?" His gaze shifts from the hall to Gareth's hair, then the fading circles under his eyes. One eyebrow goes up, although he doesn't ask about it immediately. From the terrariums, various insects go about their business - Solomon's personal collection tends towards the colorful. There are caterpillars of brilliant hues and some with spikes or stiff hairs. There are flower mantises in all their weird but beautiful glory. Leafhoppers with strange little thorns on their backs. Scorpions and spiders, too - arachnids are clearly not left out. Gareth blinks down at the mealworms in Solomon's hand. "Feeding time?" he asks, a little furrow forming in his brow at the way they squirm. He steps in after a moment's hesitation, his nostrils flaring as the scent hits him. There's no one else with him. "I didn't bring company," he tells Solomon. "If that's what you were wondering." There's the smallest quirk of a smile as he follows after Solomon, his steps pausing as the terrarium's come into view, the PI whistling lowly. "Wow. Uh. Can't say I expected that." Solomon blinks, looks down at the container, then back up. He grins, showing a lot of teeth. "Precisely." The door is closed as Gareth steps in, and the deadbolt firmly locked. "Never hurts to be careful," is all he says in response to the assurance that the PI came alone. He smiles again when Gareth stops and whistles, this time with pride. "I'm an entomologist. The university collection is for research, of course, but these are my personal acquisitions." He steps past Gareth and moves towards the kitchen. "Something to drink? You look like you could use a beer, and no, I won't think you less professional if you have one." Gareth hesitates at the question, but at Solomon's reassurance he gives a slight nod. "Please," he requests, and then holds up a finger, his face slightly paler than when he entered. "Sorry, ah, a moment," he says, closing his eyes and taking deep, slow breaths though his mouth. Solomon puts the mealworms down to open the fridge and grab a bottle of beer; it's a mid-range local brew for those who care about that. Solomon probably does. He's turning to offer it to Gareth when the other man closes his eyes and seems to go paler. His head cocks to one side. "Do you need to sit down? If you're going to throw up, I'd prefer you do it in the bathroom. If you're going to pass out, I'd prefer you not do that at all." His voice remains bland, although there's a hint of sharp amusement in his face. It's a long moment before Gareth offers a wan smile, looking up at Solomon, taking the beer and then a seat. "Ah - sorry," he apologies again. "It ah -" he doesn't seem to quite know how to explain it. "The smell," he eventually admits. "A reminder, occasionally." Colour seems to have mostly returned to his face. "I just needed a moment to ground myself." "Ah," Solomon says. There's a thoughtful nod. "Interesting." Not 'I'm sorry' or 'it's fine', just...interesting. He turns away to get another beer from the fridge and returns to the living room to sit in one of the chairs. He stares at Gareth in silence for a few moments. "If it's too bothersome, let me know. We could go outside." Then, abruptly, "Were you sick?" "No, it's fine," Gareth says, waving the hand that's not holding the beer. "It just caught me unawares." The look he gives Solomon is curious, the question also catching him unawares. "The first time? Yes," he admits. "No, I meant - you look a bit like shit, so I was wondering if your unavoidable circumstances meant you were sick," Solomon responds, with a shake of his head. "Most people are sick the first time they encounter the smells I suspect you're picking up on. That's not as interesting. Unless you threw up on the corpse. That's a forensics nightmare." "I was a rookie cop, my mentor at the time was smart enough to shove me towards a flowerpot," Gareth says wryly, shaking his head. "I'm usually better at handling it these days, but I just didn't expect it here." There's a shrug of one shoulder, the man clearly circling the question. "No," he says eventually, hesitant, like he's not sure what to say. Solomon pops the top on his bottle, and nods. "Understandable. Good thing you didn't drop by just after the murder. That'd be terribly unpleasant, I imagine." His voice is light and cheerful. "Just kidding, of course. I didn't realize you had a police background - although I suppose most private investigators do?" He makes a brief, thoughtful noise at the _no_, but doesn't press for more details. Except for the nosy personal ones he's already asked. And the way he just...keeps staring. Gareth chugs a good mouthful of the beer, like he's trying to wash the taste away before he cants his head at Solomon. "Kidding about the murder, or kidding about it being unpleasant?" he asks just as cheerfully. "I mean, what's one more, right?" he asks. There's a slight nod to the question. "Our senses of justice did not quite align," he says diplomatically. "But yes, the training is similar." Solomon looks pleased at Gareth's response, his expression warming as he chuckles. "Kidding about the murder. Look at this carpet - it does not take stains well." It's true; the carpet is a nice, thick cream color that a landlord should probably never choose for a rental. Another of those thoughtful sounds at the answer. "That can be a reassuring or concerning answer. Let's pretend it's reassuring for now, shall we? So, Mr. Evans, my sister is well?" And that question has none of the teasing to it; instead, there's something melancholy and wistful to it. A hope that doesn't expect to be realized. "There are a couple of ways to get stains out," Gareth starts, but quickly switches his train of thought back to Solomon, shooting him a wry smile. "I hope it's reassuring. There's a reason I asked about connections." He blows out a long breath at the question. "For the baseline of her life as I've observed it?" there's a lot of caveats in that statement. "Yes. She's well," he says. "Her son is fine - he's not showing any of the..." he makes a face "...signs I'd be worried about." "You'll have to give me your recommendations. That's always useful information," Solomon quips, with a sharp little smile. He takes a drink from the bottle, and nods. "Good. Or, rather...as good as I might hope for at this juncture. I was wondering if you might consider an expansion of your duties? I've heard on the grapevine that the man," the words drip with open disdain and something even darker underneath, "has picked up a new side gig working for a gang of some sort. I'd like to know doing what, for who, and if you can get pictures of it...well, that could be useful." "Hrm," Gareth says at the new information. "I had wondered why he'd been less present. Yes, I can absolutely do that," he agrees without much more of a thought. "To be completely honest, knowing where he is is almost better in this case. Yes, I can certainly shift my attention onto him." A certain tension in Solomon's shoulders eases. "Good. Thank you. I don't know much - a few people back in the old neighborhood still talk to me, but the ones who care enough to warn me about this aren't the type to get involved with anything shady." There's a touch of wry humor there. "I'd suspect he'd meet people near his work sites, or at the bar, but I don't know for certain. If he brings them around Debbie...tell me. Please." Gareth rubs a hand down his face. "Don't worry, I have enough contacts on both sides of the law to work with," he says. "And yes, I will absolutely tell you," he promise Solomon. "Immediately." He's mulling something over in his head, that much is clear. "I normally work alone, less chance of being spotted, but in this case I feel that... I may need a little backup. I am not asking for more money, though I may need to discuss that further with out if things become more dangerous." He hesitates, tapping on the side of his beer bottle. "I just may need to bring someone else in." Solomon's expression instantly closes down, guarded and wary. "Who?" Then, "The money isn't a problem, but I don't particularly like inviting anyone into my personal affairs. One stranger is hard enough, Mr. Evans. I don't particularly enjoy expanding the circle." He looks away, towards a terrarium where a tarantula has found its mealworm feast and is happily devouring one. "Yes, I had a feeling that might be the case," Gareth says, spreading his hands palm up on the table. "Which is why I thought I'd bring it up now, rather than after the fact. I also don't have to tell him anything beyond 'watch my back'," he adds. There's a bit of a wry smile. "He's saved my life before." He hesitates at the actual question of who, watching Solomon carefully. Solomon grimaces. He doesn't like it and he doesn't bother to hide that he doesn't like it. He continues to not look at Gareth, his expression shuttered and his fingertips twitching against the bottle as he thinks. "Fine," he says, at last. "If you're willing to promise me that he will be as discreet as I expect you to be, then you may. But you bear the burden of your word, Mr. Evans." Now, he turns back to the investigator, a peculiar intensity in the already uncomfortably focused gaze. "Can you promise me that?" "If you wish to meet him first, to ensure that you are at least... mildly comfortable with him, I can arrange that?" Gareth offers, shrinking back a little at the clear disapproval from Solomon. He does consider the question carefully, from all angles. "He's very good at keeping secrets," he eventually settles on, not promising anything *just* yet. "He's actually a drama teacher, but he moonlights for me now and then." Solomon was softening at the offer. In fact, he nods, and starts to say, "I would appreciate--" and then Gareth gets to the part about _drama teacher_, and Solomon just stops. Every part of him stops. He might even stop breathing. Then he leans forward, his sharp elbows perched on his knees, the bottle dangling half forgotten in one hand. "A drama teacher. Pace?" Gareth stares at Solomon for a long, unblinking moment at his reaction and then he groans and leans back in the seat, dragging a hand down his face. "How does *everyone* know Darwin?" he asks the ceiling. "Yes," he says with a sigh. "I shall take *that* reaction as 'not in a million years'." "He's got one of those faces," Solomon says, blandly. "Actually, I did an educational presentation at his school." He's starting to nod along with _not in a million years_, but again, he stops and thinks. "...no. No, that's fine. Better than a complete stranger, I suppose. But I would prefer if he's kept out of my business to the extent it's possible." "Mmm," Gareth says, not seeming totally convinced. And yet, he just nods. "There is no need for me to tell him *who* I am following, just that I need him to watch my back while I'm doing it," he says, attempting to regain SOME measure of professionalism. "I don't tell anyone who I am working for or why, Dr. Jessup. You are of course, free to speak to Darwin about it if you wish, but I will not. I will not even mention to him that I am working for *you*." Solomon huffs. Then allows, "That would be best. I don't think he would intentionally do my sister any harm. But I suspect," his voice drops to a mutter, "he would have _opinions_, and don't fucking want to hear them." It's his turn to rub at his face with a hand. "How do you even know him?" He sounds an almost insulting degree of surprised - insulting to which one of them, though, it's hard to say. Gareth tilts his head at Solomon. "You seem well acquainted with him, I didn't realise he had an interest in forensic etymology," he says *very mildly*. He's avoiding the question, taking a moment to down the rest of his beer. "As I said, he saved my life. He was... assisting me with an investigation. And since then we have been-" it's here that Gareth clearly struggles to find a descriptor. And eventually he settles on "friends." Solomon shakes his head. "Not really. As I said, I did a presentation at his school a few weeks ago. We were introduced then. I didn't even know he _had_ friends." It's probably joking? Either way, a sharp and mischevious smile lights up his features. "And I suppose if I offered your twice your usual rate to give me a thorough profile on Mr. Pace...?" "Then I'd tell you if you want to tweak his tail you'll need to find another way to do it, Dr. Jessup," Gareth responds, his tone shifting so mild it could be called balmy. "There are very few people in the world I'd trust to watch my back and he is one of them. I have a negative amount of interest in jeopardizing that trust." "Tch." Despite the irritated sound, Solomon doesn't actually look that put out, and when he examines Gareth again, it seems to be with a guarded sort of approval. "Ah, well. It was only a thought. So...yes, fine. Drag him into danger and allow him to bring all the skills a drama teacher might think to have to the situation. I _do_ look forward to the reports." Gareth relaxes, eyes thoughtful on Solomon before he nods. "Don't worry, I'll keep him on a short leash, Dr. Jessup," he says with the kind of straight face one makes when they're trying not to laugh at their own stupid joke. He rises from the chair. "Though, I should be getting back to it. I do have *one* more question, if you don't mind?" +---------------------------+ Solomon rolls 4 Dice +---------------------------+ Roll: Composure +Subterfuge Result: Success (3) -- (3 1 10 8 9) +-------------------------------------------------------- success (public) ----+ While something very like amusement twinkles in Solomon's eyes, he just says, blandly, "See that you do, Mr. Evans. I'll hold you personally responsible for his behavior - especially if it causes any harm to Debbie." And that last isn't joking at all. He moves to stand up as the meeting comes to a seeming close, but hesitates as Gareth asks. "I don't mind that you have a question. Ask, and let's see if I mind what hte question is." "What is the correct name for all uh..." Gareth starts, waving at the menagerie of tanks and creepy-crawlies. "The closest I can think is 'bugs' but that feels somewhat reductive. Not insects, as you have several spiders. *Is* there a collective name that encompasses all of your collection?" Whatever question Solomon was expecting, it wasn't that one. He continues straightening and looks around. "The phylum of arthropoda is probably closest to something that would encompass _all_ of my collection. The class of insecta covers most of them, however. I only have a very few arachnids. Mostly because I enjoy their behaviors." He tilts his head to one side. "'Bugs' works for casual conversation, though. Why?" Gareth tucks 'enjoy their behaviors' somewhere deep inside his brain where it connects with Solomon watching the tarantula eating a mealworm. He'll save the disturbed shiver for later, when there are many fewer eyes on him. "Because I didn't know," he says simply. "I like to have the right terminology. Thank you." "Ah." Solomon's expression lights up. "Well, then. Just a moment." He turns to one of the bookshelves and quickly finds a smallish volume, plucking it from the shelves and offering it to Gareth even as he leads him to the door. It's _Basic Bugs: A Beginner's Guide to Insects_. "Here. It's a fast read, and you might enjoy it. If you have questions, please don't hesitate to reach out." He opens the door. "Thank you, I'll bring it back when I next see you," Gareth says with a genuine smile. "Good day, Dr. Jessup. I'll let you know what i have when I have it," he promises. Thankfully, Solomon is holding the door open for him so he manages to leave the brownstone without injury or damage to Solomon's door. He waits until he's well out of sight to take a deep breath of fresh air. | |