[ic] Packing List

[whydidithavetobemummies]

Okay, here's what I've got.

• Clothes.
• Thompson.
• Colt one.
• Someone's ridiculous Derringer. Actually, I'm not carrying that around in public.
• Colt two.
• BAR.
• New gun bag. Some nine-thousand-year-old thing came back from the dead long enough to eat my old one.
• Sandwiches.

Anyone else got any bright ideas? Evy, suggestions?

Comments

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick sighs.] You keep saying that. [But he smiles and looks around while he eats his steak-- not particularly delicately, at that.] I'll put 'not incurring the wrath of some casino guy' on my list of personal goals. What d'you wanna see?

[proudofwhatiam]

Well, this time, it might be true. [And she goes back to her own dish, picking up one of the figs with her fingers and taking a bite. That's good etiquette, actually, because etiquette is a curious beast.] I'm not sure. This place lacks much for history, according to the map. It's like a city with all the most interesting bits plucked out.

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Luckily, Rick assumes Evy always has good etiquette.] Yeah, the people. [He's gonna take a shot in the dark, but in this case, it's more like a guided missile.] I bet this place has got a library.

[proudofwhatiam]

[Well, there's always the danger of looking a bit indelicate when eating fruit in such a way, but it can't be helped here.] The people, the museums, the open spaces... [And her eyes light up at this idea--good one, Rick.] Or, at the very least, a bookshop. I didn't see any references to a library, but they've all sorts of stores a floor down.

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick looks equally pleased-- she's so pretty when she smiles.] Let's go there, next, and raid their supplies.

[proudofwhatiam]

Yes, do let's. [And they finish off their meal, however long that takes them, and then it's time for some exploration.] If they've a shop for bathing suits, perhaps we can go for a swim later, too. [A real swim this time, not one where she's thrown into the Nile unawares. :|]

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick smiles a bit cautiously at this idea. It sounds... nice.] Sounds like a plan. [He finishes his meal and sets it aside, figuring whatever magical pixies made the food can clean it up, too. He stands, and offers Evy his arm again. Hey, it worked last time.] Alright, bookshop first?

[proudofwhatiam]

[Perhaps it's a bit daring as far as offers go, but it's not as though he hasn't seen her dishabille before. That's her justification, anyway. She takes his arm, and they head back toward the lift.] Yes, I think so.

[When they arrive on the third floor, there is, indeed, a dusty old bookshop--one in which one might have expected to find a young lady with a rather strong jawline and a prematurely aged-looking man, had one come just a bit later. Along the long, wide corridor of shops, made up to look like a little side street in Paris, there's also various shops for men's and women's fashion, including one dedicated to bathing wear, and--perhaps most interesting to certain members of the party--a gun shop.]

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick lets out an appreciative whistle at the... bookstore and gun shop. Gotta appreciate what you have. He hopes, privately, Evy doesn't think he was whirling at the bathing suits. That would also be rude.] Well, would you look at that. This what you were looking for?

[proudofwhatiam]

[That is a nice bookstore; anyone with sense would be possessed of a desire to whistle.] It is--oh, look at it. I'll try not to be too long...

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick laughs and lets her go. Maybe she likes to browse in private.] Whistle if you find anything good. I'll be over there. [And away to gun-shopping we go.]

[proudofwhatiam]

You, too. [Evy simply suspects that given his options, the bookshop is not where Rick would like to spend his time. So she heads off, intent on seeing whether any books can be found about this particular form of Coquaigne. There are none, so after finding a few history books that look interesting, she wanders over to the gun shop. She's an artless shot, but she's starting to appreciate firearms on something of an aesthetic level, if nothing else. The pistols with their mother-of-pearl handles are particularly lovely.]

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick has been raiding the gun store's supplies. He has a new (!) gun bag laid out in front of him, and is filling it with the necessities. More pistols (good to always have at least four), and a proper rifle. He locks it when he looks up and sees her, smiling a bit when he does.] Hey, there. Find anything good?

[proudofwhatiam]

[New gun bags and new old books--everyone's getting what they want today. She glances over and holds up three books.] One on Mesopotamia, one on Rome, and one on the Levant. I looked about for some information on this place, but I couldn't find anything. How did you fare?

[whydidithavetobemummies]

Sounds interesting. [Rick nods, idly wondering what the Levant is. He picks up the rifle and unloads it with a loud click.] There's lots of stuff here. I don't know what all of it is. [Shrug. Who needs a Kalashnikov?] Only grabbing the stuff I know how to use. Seems more... polite. [He begins dismantling another gun.]

[proudofwhatiam]

Mmm. I've done the same. [Evy could easily load up a fleet of carpetbags with books from that shop, but any of these could be the metaphorical rose garden from which one mustn't borrow. Better to just pick out a few things that look particularly intriguing and leave the rest to its missing master.] Bit difficult, though--everything's rather tempting.

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick laughs, quick and short.] Being careful about the books you read, all of the sudden?

[proudofwhatiam]

Not exactly. Trying not to bite off more than I can chew, essentially. [And she grins.] If I took every book that sounded interesting, we'd have a miserable time trying to cart them about anyway.

[whydidithavetobemummies]

Clearly, [Rick finishes putting together the final gun,]</small we need another camel. Or a horse. I miss horses.

[proudofwhatiam]

A camel just for books and rifles. [And she watches him fitting the gun together--it's fascinating to see all the pieces come together as they do, particularly in the hands of someone who knows so precisely where they go--with her chin resting on her hand.] Who knows, they might have a stable 'round back.

[whydidithavetobemummies]

We'll have to check. [He fits the final gun into the gun bag, and slings it over his shoulder, ready to go.] Now, what about that swimming suit shop?

[proudofwhatiam]

Oh--I think it was down this way. [So Evy leads them to a shop where the suits range from 19th-century bathing costumes to modern woollen athletic suits. Because bathing suits were once made of wool knit fabric. Fun. When they enter, Evy makes a beeline for the women's racks--she suddenly feels mildly embarrassed, shopping for a bathing suit in front of Rick, however silly that might be--and eventually finds a plain black suit that fits.]

[whydidithavetobemummies]

[Rick watches Evy scurry away, and is left to his own devices, wondering if his presence is an imposition. The shop has all sorts of costumes, but Rick, never a particularly fashionable fellow, just picks the nearest one that looks like it'll fit, and spends the next few moments looking around at the selection. And pointedly trying not to look at Evy, whatever she's doing. There are all sorts of suits, several of which Rick doesn't really recognize at all. Some of them look like little more than brightly colored lingerie, and then Rick has to stop before he mentally pictures something indecent. He begins to walk out of the store, hoping Evy will be done soon.]

[proudofwhatiam]

[Luckily, Evy has absolutely no intention of prolonging any sort of clothes shopping. She has a very get-in-get-out philosophy to acquiring new clothes...but she does want something that'll fit. The minute a suit does, however, she dresses once more and hurries out to join him.] I think it's one floor down if we want to swim.

[whydidithavetobemummies]

To the, uh, the lift again? [He smiles a little strained, but mostly earnest. It's been a while since he's been baithing. Years, almost.]