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A huffy sigh was thrown out, just as a moment later a screwdriver was thrown down onto a desk. Massaging her temples with one hand, Madame tried to imagine the blueprints of the toy again. Before her, on the now dented and abused desk surface next to the screwdriver was a dismantled toaster, lamp, and electric razor. For the past few hours, Madame had been trying to reassemble the pieces into a new toy, like something that could blind its victims with a bright light and shoot out heated razor blades after a certain amount of time. In her mind, this, accompanied by a pleasant dinging noise, seemed a fun idea. However, the pieces were inadequate. No matter how she tried to fit them together, the springs and the wire mesh simply refused to cooperate with her brilliant vision. "Bothersome little coils..."

Inside her head, the outlines for another possible construction was charting their way across an imaginary sheet of blue paper in elegant white lines. For a few minutes, she sat impossibly still, going through every step of how to turn the thought into reality, picturing the way each step would bring the toy closer to completion. "Yes... If we use the timer like a secondary trigger... Pardoning the acceleration, yes, that'll do." Then, as if snapping from a trance, she jerked back into motion, her hand flying away from her forehead and her shoulders lurching forward to lean her protectively over her pieces to this intriguing puzzle.

Thankfully, despite a handful of minor unforeseen problems, this attempt succeeded in creating her toy. It was crude looking, and she'd had to cut out use of the light bulb to blind her victims, as doing so would also blind her, and without a welding torch she wouldn't be able to fix the toaster shell into a proper shield for her eyes. But it was finished. She lifted it up gently, preparing to test it. She carefully turned in her chair, pointing with a steady hand towards her door. And just as she was about to twist the knob on the side to the bagel setting, the tap of feet from beyond froze her-- Who was that?

While she shouldn't have been surprised (this was an inn), it wasn't supposed to have many people visit. That was why she'd even chosen it. Her father couldn't find her here, even if he tried. Madame forced her muscles to relax and reviewed the days events. She'd woken up. Showered. Dressed. Bought a toaster. Come back to the inn. That was around... 4 a.m. She nodded absently. Sounded about right. What time was it now? Setting her toy down on the desk, she scuttled awkwardly backwards, eyes glued to the door, until her back bumped up against the far wall.

Feeling around, she yanked on the curtains she'd hastily drawn over her windows the night before, to block out the moonlight, and was a little shocked to see filmy sunlight crawl into her room. The fog dimmed a lot of it, but she could tell it was clearly hours she'd been working. "Goodness... Mary, we are going to be exhausted." A tinkling of her laugh escaped before she clamped her hand down over her mouth. Muffled by her rather strong grip, she bit out, "Not now." Glaring at the door now, she waited, then, as she heard a knock, remembered. Releasing her mouth, she let herself laugh, a harsh, cackling sound that sounded like a vague cross between a cry for help and a child's giggles. She had asked the man at the desk to bring her breakfast.

Quickly pulling from her memory Svelte offered up a name she'd come upon centuries ago in the middle east, "Nima and thank you for asking Ryan, I'll return the newspaper to you in a moment." Sparing another smile for Ryan, Svelte thought about the headliners and the missing girls. She was slightly curious, but she'd be more then happy to stay low and out of the light.

Only interested in the headlines, Svelte laid the newspaper back on the counter and looked to Ryan. "Nineteen girls missing and still nothing," Svelte paused for a moment to take another sip of her coffee, "...lucky me, I'm still here. Nineteen girls gone seems an awful lot for this small town. Must've gotten harder for you to snag a date I'm guessing." Finishing with a wink, Svelte moved to sit down at the nearest table after a brief look at the rest of the cafe. She thought of striking up a conversation with the sandy blonde reading the newspaper, but sat down instead letting her thoughts crumble down to get soggy in a hot cup of coffee.

Nearly starting from her seat, nearly, Svelte managed to tear her thoughts back to the present to glance over at the cafe's other (only?) patron. Smiling, Svelte responded in her own hushed tones, "No time like the present to learn. It is like some may say, practice makes perfect." She finished her coffee swiftly and considered the blonde patron for a moment, deciding to let him fuel the conversation if he wished.

The knock on Madame's door came a second time. "Room service," a voice said with a hint of impatience. The innkeeper waited outside the door with the standard breakfast fare...a bowl of cereal, toast, bacon, eggs, and orange juice. The girl who had been staying in this room had rather strange hours...and occasionally, he had heard weird noises coming from within. This was enough to make him wish only to deliver breakfast and have nothing else to do with her. If she's not here in 10 seconds I'm going to eat this myself... he thought to himself, tapping his foot impatiently.

The computer responded to the elderly man affirmatively, blinking on suddenly, fully booted and ready to go. From the look of things, no one had used the out-dated machine in ages...they most likely were unable to even get it turned on. But there it was, screen lighting the dark corner it had idled in for several years now.

Ryan didn't seem to notice Richard and "Nima's" side conversation as another customer's elaborate request took his attention away for a few minutes. When he returned, he made a reply to her comment about the missing girls and not being able to get a date. "Well, there were never very many girls worth dating here in Longshore...I mean, at least not compared to you. But year, the missing girls..." he looked around the room nervously for a moment before catching the eye of a middle-aged man who stunk of old wealth. Ryan cleared his throat and looked back to Svelte. "I, uh, can't say much about that. The whole article is in the paper, there."

((Sable, Hlyn - both roll Intellect + Awareness to notice something on the Newspaper...))

((I'm poking in the dark here... Observation and Awareness are interchangeable? Neglected to ask before... If they are, 6 total bonus, assuming Insight specialty is nothing to do with noticing an article.))

Svelte, smiling again as if she never stopped for Ryan, nodded once before returning to the counter for the newspaper she had laid down. She noted away Ryan's reluctance and glances, but paid them no mind for the moment. "Thank you, Ryan, on both the compliment and pointing out the article for me. Let's see if I can find it then." Svelte disposed of her empty cup in a nearby waste bin near the counter before picking up the newspaper. She'd give it a cursory scan while she moved back to the table she had used before really looking it over...

((Edit: Go me! A 16! I can dig it.))

The article on the missing girls was written by one Nina Vaughn, a reporter from out of town who was a supposed expert on the paranormal. The article is straight-forward in its approach, concluding that this is a series of kidnappings related to a local cult based on available evidence. Obviously, such a claim was widely dismissed and attributed to Mrs. Vaughn's tendency to see perfectly rational events in a paranormal light. You remember hearing something overheard in an earlier conversation...or as you passed a television; Nina Vaughn disappeared shortly after the article was published.

"Richard, it's Kurt," said the voicemail. "Listen, we haven't gone public with this yet, but we found the reporter's body. It's...it's pretty gruesome. I thought you should come down here and have a look before we let this leak to the press. I'll see you soon."

Thank you Maoji thought listening to the buzzing of the computer as it started up. This machine reminds me of myself, but it will be no help it I can't see what it's trying to show me. Can you tell me what you're displaying. I'm blind and cannot see what's on the screen. Hopefully the computer's able to show me otherwise I'll be forced to do something that I greatly distaste

"You think I'm likely to be taken like the others?" One eyebrow raised, the corners of her mouth twitched in a wry grimace. Seemingly oblivious as ever to the man's discomfort in her presence, Madame shifted the tray to one hand and patted the man on the shoulder sombrely, "Good things come to those who wait, now don't they, precious?" Shoulders sagging, the woman withdrew back into her room, briefly forgetting to throw out her hip as a visual wall between the man and the dangerous looking toy on her desk. Holding the door in a pinched grip, Madame asked non-committally, drawing out the time before she was alone again, "Or perhaps do better things come to those who take them?"

Absently, she turned and glanced at the sunlight coming in through the window more clearly now, as fog weakened and spread out. While Madame didn't have the heart to acquiesce her independence so easily by letting herself be caught, by roaming the streets in hopes of being captured, the option of doing so became more and more attractive everyday, as this problem made itself more and more baffling to curious minds, and continued to remain unsolved, despite the best efforts of all involved. Forcing herself to relax her hold on the door and smile at least half-way openly at the man in front of her, she offered dryly, "If wishes were fishes, ey?"