Occams Razor

((Continued from ))

Kesley stepped through the front doors of the AAA Diner, Victor not far behind her. She tried to play it cool as her eyes swept over diner, looking for any sign of Liberty Blue. She gave a smile and a friendly greeting to the Professor if he was present as she passed his booth, then continued on at a slow walk towards the back of the diner. Her attention was focused on the folks sitting on the right hand side, every now and then glancing out to the covered section of porch in case Liberty was hiding there. If nothing unusual happened, she'd stop to have a short conversation with the Ross boys (or whoever had claimed the table closest to the back porch door), then catch Victor's eye and head on out the back door to report to Madrigus.

victor shuffles awkwardly toward the diner, trying to look alone, her blue high-tops a little pigeon-toed as usual, eyes down at the last second to examine her shirt for stains - (oh crap! well, at least it's not my FAVORITE cat shirt.. maybe start wearin' darker colors, now that this spy business is pickin' up.. ehh) an experimental hand swipes across her cheek where it feels a little sticky, and victor quickly darts off to one side to examine her face in a window and with a quick spot of spit, furiously rub the remnants of that jerk squirrel away before entering the diner.

rather proud of herself for catching that one, vic continues into the diner with her chin held a little higher, bright eyes quickly darting right to check out kelsey's progress, then scanning left toward the back of the diner. she uses her peripheral vision to watch the crowd as she heads toward her destination with determined purpose - picking up on details and watchin' out for certain kids without acting like you're payin' attention, that's a skill you NEED in middle school, if you're anything like victor jones. at least one thing she's good at, socially speaking.

assuming nothing interesting happens on the way, she spots flo in her usual place, she leans forward across the counter with a huge, wide grin - gotta use the big ol' kitty eyes trick, of course (not a dog person, vic, but you get the idea) - and turns the charm full on. the foster dad, jamie, he's a bachelor - alright guy, but not exactly the let's-go-get-ice-cream sorta guy, and vic's got her sights SET on gettin' some now..

"hey, you flo? i heard of you around town, pretty eyes, gorgeous red hair, gotta be you, right?" victor runs a hand through her own short &disheveled mouse-brown mop, "gosh, i wish i had hair like that. mine just goes POOF if i let it get any longer than this.. anyway, hey, i'm new in town, and my foster dad don't really know much about girl food and.. gosh, you think i could just maybe have a little sample cup of ice cream, kinda maybe a welcome-to-town thing? i ain't really met too many people yet and.. well.." she trails off, letting herself look a little dejected, which isn't actually too hard, since it's closer to home than her pride quite wants her to admit.. still. things are lookin' up now, right? she raises her eyes back up and smiles hopefully at the woman.

vic'll probably be distracted by that ice cream endeavor for a mo, but eventually, after a bit more chit-chat and charming , she'll notice kelsey's glance, remember her mission and flee back out the door like the White Rabbit late for a date, presumably toward home, though in truth she'll find a way to surreptitiously slink back to rendezvous with kelsey and madrigus.

:: Its a typical day in the AAA. One of the servers is wiping down the tables with a rag, their head bobbing along with the music from the jukebox. Several people are sitting at one of the tables towards the front of the diner, engrossed in a mean game of pinochle. The sound of sweeping comes subtly from the area near the 'secondary' front door. There are sounds of food prep coming from the kitchen. And a lovely smell, like baking blueberry pie. Yum. ::

((OOG insert - the narrator is a player; Flo is an NPC. The narrator can't provide interact with Flo. Sorry ))

:: As Kelsey makes her way to the door leading to the back porch/lakeside entrance, she may note a blue post-it B stuck haphazardly to the interior door frame, sort of slapped up there at around knee-height and threatening to fall at any moment.
On the front of the post-it is written "Leo/Sally"
On the back it reads: Leo. And or Sally. I would like monkey-picked oolong. Or a monkey minion to pick my oolong. ::

Kelsey peeled the blue post-it note off the door frame, turning it over to read the back of it. As a private investigator, you had to be prepared to go through other people's things, and since Sally had been showing them all the notes so far, she didn't think he'd mind.

Shaking her head at the non sequitur, she headed out the back to meet Madrigus.

"Well, she's been here, at least," Kelsey said, handing the post-it note over to the robed man. "Probably gone by now, though."

Sally skirts around the far side of the tavern, almost like he's headed to Main Street, and plants himself so that he can see both the back and side door of the AAA. Once Victor goes in, her goofy lookin' cat-sweater thing flapping in the breeze, he starts looking for anyone that could be either Liberty in disguise, or yet another of her conscripts.

victor's helter-skelter dash slows and stops once she'away from the diner, then she circles back to creep up next to kelsey, standing on tiptoe to look over her shoulder. she suppresses a giggle, tries to look serious, strokes her chin, licks her finger and strokes it again, this time with more practical purpose. she's really going to need to wash her face later..

"ahh. i see... so what do we do next?"

A man and woman head along the road from the field across from the homes on Main Street. They speak in normal tones that still manage to carry. Local Number One says to Local Number Two...
(What? I know their names? Hmmm... sticking with the trend which seems to be that everyone seems to have double names in this place - like its a whacky combo of Redneckia and Whoville I'll take a shot in the dark and go with...)

Betty Sue Who says to Tommy Lou Who-Dat: Yeah, I took the shotgun over to the chicken coop when I heard the disturbance. Figured I'd catch me a fox there, what with all the racket the chickens were making but I didn't find hide nor hair of a critter.

Tommy Lou then says: You check under the coop? In the boxes? Under the hay? You know them foxes can be tricksy.

Betty Sue gives Tommy Lou 'the eye': What kind of backwoods fool you take me for Tommy Lou?
She stops, shakes a finger at him: Don't you be answering that Tommy Lou. Don't you be answering that.

Tommy Lou grins and snatches the finger Betty Sue is shaking and raises it towards his mouth as if for a kiss: Only fool here 'bouts is me, Betty Sue.

Betty Sue blushes and makes to snatch her hand back, but her motion is for sure slow: Aw, you!
Then she turns a look on Sally, her eyes narrowed. In a raised voice she snaps: What you looking at?

((Narrator note: For the sake of my sanity I'm going to establish that ya'll are about 45 minutes into this thing at this point. Just to hammer down a timeline ))

Taken aback, Sally snaps, "Some-body plum fool 'nough to take a shot gun inta they chicken coop- good way to blow out yer coop walls an' a coupla hens while you at it. Twenty-twos is made fer a damn reason! So what in tha blue hell you lookin' at?"

Sally squints all the same, trying to determine if either of the couple could be Liberty Blue in disguise. For a brief, brief moment, he even considers that they both could be, via some sortsa weird hoo-doo, but then recalls the rule against Funny Stuff.

As convinced as he can be that this is not the case, Sally keeps scanning the horizon. As the couple huffs away, he says, "Hey, ya'll see an In-di-an girl- like, Pun-jabi o' Ganges-zi, not Ab-en-aki, you get to hollarin'. She on a wild flashin' spree. Wouldn't want yer del-i-cate sensibilities harmed none."

He glances back to the AAA, hoping for a ruckus!

:: Betty Sue, clearly the spokeswoman of the two, seemed to chew over Sally's words - like she was working it through a NH-to-Appalacchia-Redneck translator. After a moment she jerks her head in the direction of the field. ::
You mean maybe the one that was runnin' o'er there near the chickens 'bout fi-teen minutes ago?

:: she lifts her brows high enough to form furrows on her forehead deep enough to plant corn. Then narrows her gaze ::
Might not be the same. This one was wearing clothes. Though...

:: another pause :: come to think of it seemed like maybe not Her Clothes seeing as I'd swear I saw that shirt on Johnny Boo earlier.

I:: Unevenly spaced up the ramp leading up to the back door of the AAA are a set of very subtle dried dirt marks in the shape of the ball of the foot of a pair of Docs. Mostly they have dried to the point that it is hard to discern them against the wood so it would take a very keen eye to see them.

There is also a very slight disturbance in the dust near the back door which has arguably been obscured by people using that exit. But, if Madrigus had looked prior to others using that door he might have seen the shape the balls of the feet of two boots there, their shape dissolving into a swirl that turns away from the ramp and towards the larger expanse of the back porch area. Farther along is one more very slight mud print and then… nothing.

A very observant person might – just might – notice that the end of one of the picnic benches near where the marks stopped is so, so, so slightly askew.

That’s about all that’s there in the back of the AAA ::

(sorry to not explain prior – the narrator has a little trouble with splitting focus )