Enhanced Performance
23st of January 2007 A.D.
Alas Flick does not have a disguise that can stand up to scrutiny in the clear light of day so you pick up a room at a hotel. Lydia suggests the Buckminster, she had apparently lived there almost three months, including her thirteenth birthday. Not even you talk fast enough to explain heavy augmentations in a well lit and well appointed hotel lobby, so it's off to find one that's... not that.
What you settle on in the end is the Greystone Motel, which is neither grey, nor made of stone, you guess that it is a motel though, from the general bustle of mostly young mostly broke people college age or younger milling around even at this late hour. You might not know the girl with the bubblegum pink hair and the rhinestone nose ring, or the guy wearing sunglasses in doors at night, but you
know them. God only knows that the bored guy barely glancing up from his magazine to hand you your keys thought you were into, but a room is acquired.
If you had to guess what piece of earthly technology would most surprise and intrigue Flick that would have been the TV or the phone maybe, devices that while serving familiar purposes are entirely missing any arcane component, you would not have guessed 'mechanical keys'. Locks with tumblers are apparently one of those things that Sanctuary never invented at alongside uggs and Reality TV.
Seeing as this
is the closest low-cost establishment to campus and knowing a bit about how college parties tend to go on and off campus you decide to ask around, see if anyone heard about Karl. At first your inquiries are met with confused silence, but as you approach a group of guys casually eyeing the three of you and none-too-quietly wondering about your relative ages, you get the other kind of silence, sprinkled with suspicion and too-quick-denials.
Taking an educated guess from the nature of his major you ask if Karl's 'fun at parties'.
"No... nothing like that..." the guy you had been talking to backpedals so fast he could be cycling the reverse-Tour de France. "He's a good guy."
"Oh for fucks' sake," it's the girl with pink hair from earlier slamming a door open to shout into the corridor,
I Don't Feel Like Dancin' blaring in the room behind her. "New girls what do you want?"
"To find Karl Bennet," you shout back, knowing that any sentence longer than that risked getting lost in the music.
She looks at the three of you then at the guys you had been interrogating and says. "He doesn't do party drugs, he does sports drugs, weird ones so unless you're into competitive Bob Sledding you are shit out of luck."
"Cheryl!" the guy glares at him.
She just rolls her eyes before glancing at Lydia. "What, do you think the feds are hiring middle schoolers to narc on us now?"
Your friend looks down at herself, as though to assure herself that she does not look fourteen, but Olivia looks like she is on the ball there so you strike up a conversation with Cheryl. That as it turns out is a good metaphor for her, being the kind of girl who would burn her acquaintances either accidentally or on purpose.
In the process of mingling, lauging fixing one of the speakers and making some snacks, not literally by magic, but darn close you catch up on Karl news. Not only do you get the guy's number and his address, but also find out that he is not even a very good supplier of dubious pills. Nothing occult in sight, or you guess hearing, nothing to connect him to the Well other than having previously stayed in the building that seems to be at the epicenter of the weirdness on the Harvard campus and yet the Crown does not lie, you know that like you know your own name.
Lost 2 Essence -> Now at 12/15 (Empathy and Crafting Excellencies)
What do you do?
[] Just show up at his door
-[] Write in in what guise
[] Call him
-[] Write in under what pretense
[] Write in
OOC: You have a lead on what this guy is into, question is what do you do with it.