This means nothing to me

[restingstitchface]

WHO: Crane and Various
WHERE: Nonah
WHEN: September 20th
WHAT: Mysterious packages
WARNINGS: None


Admissions Office, Nonah | Haru

When the door to the admissions office opens that morning and welcomes Crane inside, he steadfastly manages to refrain from commenting at the students annoying the breath out of him. He decides it best to push through and swipes his files, applicants to his Psych 101, but is too quick to swirl around when he collides with someone.

"Excuse me."



Psychiatrist's Office, Nonah | Boba

There was light shining through the door. The warm, muted radiance of a lamp from the hallway.

The house Boba visited appeared to be an old mansion in the earliest quarter of Nonah, gothic architecture running from its pointed rooves to the porch outside the front door. Besides the lamp, there wasn't much else visible in the hallway. There was nothing that was untoward about the building, it did seem like the sort of place where one could find people who appreciated the sort of delivery Boba was making, but the fact the occupants name was already known to the shadier elements of Maurtia Falls might give anyone room for pause.

A figure approaches down the hallway, coated in haze until keys jingle and he opens the door. A slender, aesthetic man who observed his guest from behind a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles. A gesture towards the hall and he's stepping back.

"Please. Come inside."

Before anyone sees you.



Birthday Reflection, Nonah | OTA

It surprised him how quickly his birthday seemed to roll around. The circumstances through the year had been extraordinarily stressful. Old enemies who had caused him no end of grief were gone. The loneliness had surprised him - but oh, had it been excruciating.

He reads his paper sternly, ignoring the doorbell. Surely people didn't believe he derived pleasure from being complimented? But there he is, coiling his fingers round his curtains and wondering just who is ringing his door at this hour?

Comments

[myownprice]

This isn’t a neighborhood Boba’s been sent to before.

His eyes flicker over the strangely ornate facades of houses, as alien as anything on Tatooine. He’d been paid extra for this job—though whether that’s due to its distance from Maurtia Falls, the contents he’s carrying, or the recipient’s apparent wealth, he isn’t sure. He’s not paid to ask questions. Quite the opposite, actually.

He walks up to the mansion as boldly as if he lived there—it helps allay suspicions if you can look like you belong somewhere—but his eyes move even when his head doesn’t, taking in all the exotic features of the house’s exterior. He’s seen nothing like it before, not on Kamino, not on Raxus Prime, and not on Tatooine.

When the door opens, he nods politely to the man who answers. Still, even when invited in, he’s careful to keep his distance as he steps inside. He’d learned his lesson about not approaching recipients too closely after one had tried to kill him. This man doesn’t look like the sort to fly into a rage like that one had, but it never hurts to be on guard.

He puts a healthy distance between them and then turns to face the man, regarding him coolly. Dressed casually with a backpack slung over his shoulders, Boba could easily be mistaken for a local school child—it’s one of the reason he’s preferred as a courier. Kids don’t get stopped and searched nearly as often as adults.

He says nothing. He’ll wait until Crane introduces himself before handing over his delivery—he has to make sure he’s brought it to the right person, after all.

[restingstitchface]

Crane shuts the door behind them. He does not introduce himself at first, his arm pushing the frame going slack and hiding out of his way. He feels the boy's eyes acutely but doesn't look particularily troubled. He turns round and crosses the hall, bracing his arms at his back.

"My name's Doctor Crane. Thank you for coming all this way."

With his hands resting on the small of his back, he approaches the kitchen. He leads the way and offers his hospitality before they've left the hallway.

"Do you need a drink?"

The child's come all this way. Perhaps he's being thoughtful?

[myownprice]

Crane. Right person, then. Boba expects him to ask for the package immediately, but instead, he turns and walks down the hall, hands clasped behind him. After a moment’s hesitation, Boba follows after him, equal parts curious and mistrustful.

“No, thank you,” Boba says, finally breaking his silence. He’s learned from hard-won experience not to take food or drink from strangers. Anyway, he has a bottle of water in one of the pouches of his backpack. “I’m just here to deliver the package.”

Boba hopes he gets the hint. ’I’m not looking for any trouble. Don’t try anything.’

[restingstitchface]

The quiet mumble Crane replies with is almost instantaneous, carrying with it disappointment even as his stature softens and unravels. Tension rolls off his back. He swallows a laugh and keeps a supporting hand against his back. How could he possibly not recognize the message when he had been equally defensive in his past?

Something about it just seems to make him unwind. The decor in the kitchen is much the same as the outside; old, elaborate and without any sign of plaster peeling off the walls. Both alike and unlike his childhood home. There is a conspicuous envelope on the kitchen table.

"Show me the merchandise, as they say?"

[myownprice]

The man’s disappointment doesn’t bother Boba. If anything, he takes it as confirmation that he was right to turn down his offer. His eyes dart around as they enter the well-decorated kitchen, looking for other signs of life. He wonders if the man has people to cook for him; he assumes most wealthy people do.

His eyes snap back to Crane at the sound of his voice. The request gets a nod, business-like, before Boba eases the backpack off his shoulders and places it gently on the ground. He doesn’t know what’s in the package. It could be anything from priceless art to plastic explosives. Better to avoid breaking—or detonating—anything.

He removes a nondescript cardboard box from his bag and places it on one of the kitchen counters. That done, he removes a folding knife from his pocket and, after a glance at Crane to make sure he doesn’t object, cuts the tape sealing the box closed. That done, he steps back, giving Crane space to inspect his delivery. Sometimes clients dismiss him at this stage, but Boba doesn’t leave if he isn’t asked—even if he doesn’t ask questions, he does like to see what it is he just snuck under the nose of local authorities.

[restingstitchface]

Crane breathes gently through his nose and eases a delicately wrapped book out the box with his fingertips. He feels the polyester jacket, thin and cool. It was not unlike the feeling of the books he'd taken out of the library - though the one at his school, not home.

He doesn't say anything as he lays it on the table. The Horror in the Museum by H.P. Lovecraft. The white cover looks strange in a kitchen that doesn't reveal signs of use - other than an opened pack of biscuits near the stove. It seems Crane doesn't cook at all, let alone let people inside to do it for him.

"Oh, well, that's perfect." He taps his fingers against his arm. "It makes me glad people understand the value of culture."

[myownprice]

Boba can’t quite hide the expression of surprise that appears on his face when the man lifts a book from out of the box. He’s seen lots of contraband during his short time as a courier—weapons, drugs, unidentified chemicals—but to his knowledge, he’s never delivered a book before.

Boba knows the significance of books, though. He certainly misses the one his father gave him. For that reason, he doesn’t question why the man might have gone through so much trouble for this one—though, he’s curious enough that Crane might catch him carefully shifting onto his toes, trying to get a better look at the title on the book on the counter.

[restingstitchface]

Crane doesn't physically react to such curiosity, though he does make a little noise that lightens the cracks in his armor. He pushes the book beyond Boba's reach but turns to face him - to teach, not punish.

"It's valuable."

He tries not to look harsh. He walks over to the opened pack of biscuits and dumps them into the trash, seeming to mull something. Grabbing his delibery, he then motions Boba to follow him back into the hall.

[myownprice]

The second Crane pushes the book out of his line of sight, Boba immediately drops back onto his feet and snaps his gaze forward, chiding himself for getting caught. But Crane doesn’t seem particularly upset. If anything, he seems distracted. Maybe he’s preoccupied planning his next move—perhaps selling the book? Boba doesn’t know what might make a book valuable except maybe a really exceptional story, but anything expensive is bound to have a buyer.

He follows Crane back into the hall, expecting to be dismissed.

got u in the ota

[h2no]

[seeing as crane is almost the same person as maxie, archie went ahead and assumed he not only doesn't care for his birthday, but also likely actively made attempts to forget the date.

does that mean he cares enough to not do anything for it?

no.

he lets the bell finish its ring, then stays standing outside, holding the small box gift - a nice inkwell pen set, it seemed like the sort of thing he'd like - and waiting. maybe looking around for the murkrow crane had gathered a couple months ago. a year ago? time flies.]

[restingstitchface]

[Crane seems reluctant to emerge from behind the curtain.

He stands there in silence for several moments.

Finally, he whispers something inaudible and goes to open the door, thinking about a great many things as he crosses into the hall. He feels his entire arm stiffen as he unbolts the door but doesn't do anything - and doesn't speak. He doesn't send Archie on his way, though. He gestures at the hall.]

I'm getting a bit long in the tooth for having guests at this hour.

[h2no]

[well, that's a start. he doesn't move; holds the small gift-wrapped box out.]

I've no idea what that means. This is for you.

[restingstitchface]

[Uh.]

Thank you.

[The present is accepted and gently placed on a sidetable. He breathes a sigh of relief soon as it's out his hands. Not from disrespect but awkwardness.]

Sorry, opening presents with friends isn't exactly my mileau.

[Friends. Vulnerability. Awkward.]

[h2no]

[he blinks a few times. processing. there's a lot to unwrap (badum) there. his first thought is, we're friends? his second is trying to figure out why crane wouldn't like doing something as simple as...

well, whatever. that's when he decides to enter into the house, pointedly facing away from crane as he looks for the kitchen.]

I'm not looking! [he calls out.] Promise!

[restingstitchface]

[Crane doesn't even bother to open it, just slides it into a draw for investigation later. He comes up behind Archie so quietly that it might be like he's suddenly at his back.]

Then I suppose I'll have to tell you kitchen's at the back.

[h2no]

[he's only a little hurt. just a little. he doesn't see crane slip it into a drawer so the clear answer here is he dumped it in a bin archie just didn't see. it's fine. his feelings are fine.

he yelps a little when crane shadowsteps (?) to his back, jerking an elbow back. sorry if he catches you?]

Ye-s, please. I don't want to walk around your house aimlessly. That's probably-- probably rude.

[restingstitchface]

[Ouch.

Crane sighs a little bit and gently rubs his side. He stubbornly refuses to look near Archie for a while and walks around him, grasping his hands at his back. A short time after the initial blow, he moves on other to the closed door at the end of the hall and opens it so they can go take a seat. The kitchen itself is just as old and grand as the rest of the building, though unlike the kitchen of his childhood plaster isn't coming off the walls.]

So you've come all this way. Need refreshment?

[girlybruiser]

Haru doesn't see anyone until she's bumping head on into them, a small folder in her hands tumbling out of grasp so that it spills open and papers slide across the floor in different directions. She's also so startled that she loudly gasps, then steps back to see who it is she needs to apologize to.

She recognizes him instantly — from the grocery store way, way back, and the network — but still is quick to say:

"My apologies! I did not see where I was going."

[restingstitchface]

Crane carefully masks his annoyance and crouches down. "Quite alright."

He spreads his fingers and begins harvesting papers off the floor. The world itself seems to fold in alongside him, pressuring him from all sides, gnaws at his fingertips and bites at his toes. One of his hands rub the back of his neck, giving him something else to focus on. He recalls who she is, though he does not remember her favorably, nor much at all, really...

"You're here early," he comments.

[girlybruiser]

She questions whether or not Crane remembers her, nothing in his expression giving away a hint of familiarity yet. Even his question doesn't discern if he recalls the grocery store or the conversation held over the network. She doesn't ruminate much on it, however, trying to sort her own papers out so she can gather them back into the folder.

The papers strewn are forms, all unsigned or blank, but upon a closer look it appears they're for registration in 2019.

"I have an appointment," she starts, pulling another piece of paper off the floor. "However, the counselor mistakenly forgot he had another appointment in my time-slot. I have to wait a little bit."

[restingstitchface]

He doesn't try to read what he's collected, just notices the date typed on the header as he hands papers back to her.

"Longer than a little bit, ostensibly," he finishes, injecting his tone with blithe humor. Is he poking fun at the counselor's timekeeping or that date he eyed? "I remember the first time I met him. He wasn't punctual back then, either."

[girlybruiser]

Her brows knit toward one another, slightly concerned that the counselor may or may not keep his appointment with Haru. However, it doesn't tempt her to wander away and seek out another school; she would much prefer this one, having heard exceptional things about the education and resources offered.

"I suppose I will wait until he is ready," she sighs quietly. Her eyes skim Crane's face again. "You are... Dr. Crane, yes?"

[restingstitchface]

No. Scarecrow.

Directing his gaze to her, he attempts to pin her to the person next in the queue in the same way he pins students to their chairs.

"Yes. Haru Okumura, wasn't it?"

[girlybruiser]

"Yes, that's correct."

Once she collects her paper, she pulls the folder close to her chest so that it doesn't slip from her once more. She stands up fully, though she has to crane her neck a little to continue meeting Crane's gaze.

Didn't someone once tell her something significant about Crane, too? She tries to recall.

"Are you a professor here then?"

[restingstitchface]

"Indeed. Psychology and psychiatry."

Fingers slip beneath his chin, lifting his face up. Eventually he isn't looking at her directly. He raises a hand to divert some member of staff trying to get his attention and returns to watching Haru instead.

"If you would like to share what course you're applying for, I can offer some advice."