[CLOSED] Blogger cryptography session

[irwins]

WHO: Georgia, Becks, and Shaun - the three blogpeople of the apocalypse
WHERE: George & Shaun's apartment
WHEN: NOW
WHAT: Poring over coded messages and pooling their brainpower. Some participants are contributing more than others.
WARNINGS: Just the usual chance of mentions of adopted sibling incest and terrible language



Shaun Mason knows his talents. He knows his best camera angles, knows his best lighting, knows how to build tension and drama, how to pitch his voice to sound like a whisper while still being heard. He knows his way around weaponry and vehicles and can tear through schematics of a building for weak points and exits and defense strategies in no time flat.

He also knows, for a fact, that he is absolute shit at codes and puzzles. Way too much sitting still involved.

Thankfully, another fact that he is well aware of, is that the two women he's with are much smarter than he is. This works for Shaun.

It's also why he's mostly trying to be useful in making coffee and making sure his sister has her caffeine-in-a-can nearby.

"This is totally newsie stuff, right? You two should definitely be able to figure this out." He's also cheerleader. But he stands by it. Georgia Mason is queen of the newsies. And Rebecca Atherton is the most dangerous newsie ever to turn Irwin. What could possibly stop them?

Comments

[choosetruth]

Caffeine-in-a-can helps, but Georgia is still getting a headache from staring at all this nonsense. She looks up at Shaun and glares through her sunglasses.

"Hey, Becks?" she asks, almost sweetly. "If I told you beating up Shaun would help me figure out this stupid code, would you do it?"

[insincerecharm]

The messages were...weird as fuck, to be quite frankly honest. Becks still really isn't too sure what to make of any of it. They've set up camp in the Mason's apartment, Becks has a notebook with various attempts at anagrams with the visible letters of the message scribbled across it. None of it makes much sense, though. Shaun has done his part as cheerleader and drink-filler, but she understands how bored he must be. Once they have the answer on their hands, it'll be a whole different story. Shaun Mason is all about action, which is something Becks understands. But he's right-- she's been on both sides of the blogger coin and she will be more help to Georgia on this than he would, at the moment. She's staring down at her letter choices to try and devise another word or two when Georgia addresses her in a voice that almost reminds her of her own sticky-sweet one she uses when she wants something for the views. Keys to an employees access only room or the like. A smirk spreads slowly across her lips at the question. "Oh, I'm sure that could be arranged."

[irwins]

Shaun holds up both hands and tries -- while failing, spectacularly -- to look as innocent and helpful as possible. "Wow. No need. I'm already wounded. Words hurt, George. Et tu, Becks?"

He sinks dramatically into a empty chair around the table and pokes at one of the papers like he's considering maybe actually making an effort to help. But Becks has it exactly right. This is not the part that Shaun Mason was built for. Once they have the message and there's leads to chase or actions to take? He'll be here for it. Until then? He's basically melting into a pile of sad and useless.

[choosetruth]

George can't help but give him a small smile from across the table, and she doesn't even try that hard to hide it. It's a big change, having people around who know the truth about her relationship with Shaun. Caution is habit at this point, but being able to put some of it aside is... nice.

"All of us know you'd enjoy that a whole lot more than you're enjoying working on this bullshit. You're not that subtle."

[insincerecharm]

"Sure you are," Becks rolls her eyes at her friend's dramatics. At least one of them has a sensible head on their shoulders. She can't help the laugh at George's remark and she tips her head a little with a smirk. "She has a point, Shaun." She twirls her pencil between her fingers, "It's not Morse code, right?" she asks, squinting down at her paper.

[irwins]

All right. They've got him. Shaun winks in George's direction. "You're making me sound like a masochist, you know." But she's not wrong. Anything would be better than this code cracking.

He does pipe up at Becks' question. "Not Morse code," Shaun can safely help with that one, if only because he has bothered to learn some of that at some point. Sort of. Don't actually quiz him on it.

[choosetruth]

Georgia gives Shaun narrow smirk beneath her sunglasses. Whether or not Becks knows, there's only so obvious she's willing to be. Especially when a look conveys so much more than words ever could.

"Morse code is just dots and dashes. While I suppose the letters could stand in for dashes, it still wouldn't be repeating in a way that makes sense."

[insincerecharm]

"Don't act like you're not," Becks interjects with a look of her own at Shaun, knowing and doubtful all at once somehow. She hums softly and stares at the jumbled mess on the paper again, lightly tapping the pencil in her hand against the table. "What else could it be?" Ciphers aren't exactly a strong suit of hers.

[irwins]

Becks is met with as affronted a face as Shaun can manage before it melts into a grin. How dare you call him out that way, Rebecca. But he keeps quiet and looks at the papers again too.

"If they're all part of the same code, what order do the go in?"

[choosetruth]

“They have those symbols at the top. They look a little like pre-Rising clock hands.” She tarts to rearrange the index cards with the messages. “If I’m right, remind me to apologize to Mom for telling her that big grandfather clock in the living room was useless.”

Not many people in their generation had enough exposure to old clock faces to recognize what they looked like.

[insincerecharm]

Where would Shaun be without Becks to call him out? She hums thoughtfully at Georgia's idea, tilting her head a little to one side, like that might make a difference in the way she's seeing things. "I guess it kind of does... so a time limit? Or a certain time something has to happen?" Clocks can mean so many things when it comes to symbolism, this is so vague it's annoying!