Post by Jenn on Jan 30, 2013 12:45:17 GMT -8
[Under the Influence hypothetical]
(High Society) They sat together in the restaurant as the wait staff hovered discreetly nearby. An older woman in expensive lace and a younger woman in a stylist dress a couple years out of date.
“May I ask about… about what happened?”
“A man tried to kidnap me but I fought him off.”
“Oh goodness, Donna! Was he caught?”
“No. I don’t actually know what happened to him. But this scar makes sure I never forget him.”
“You poor dear. You’re so strong and selfless. I feel I must donate to your shelter now.”
“I won’t say no. We need all the help we can get.”
(Street) They lounged together on the makeshift bed of tatty cushions and stained blankets. Their clothes, rough jeans and cheap t-shirts, were scattered about the floor.
“Babe, what happened here?”
“An ex-lover decided he didn’t want me to leave. He tried to kill me.”
“Damn.”
“But even as he cut me, I put three bullets in his chest.”
“You’re hardcore, Rose.”
“Don’t you fucking forget it.”
(Legal) They sat across from one another in the office. He behind the desk with his diplomas and awards mounted on the wall. She in front of the desk on an uncomfortable plastic chair. Smart suits and wary eyes for both of them.
“You’ve been through a lot I see. Will… that… affect your work as a freelance researcher? The facts we need to verify are often traumatic. You’ll be required to verify them to the best of your ability.”
“The scar? No, sir. I don’t believe so.”
“What happened?”
“A cultist tried to recruit me. When that failed, he tried to kill me.”
“Cultist?”
“Religious fanatic. Apparently, someone in the organization thought I had skills they needed. Sent a man in to befriend me. Then, when I refused him, he tried to cut my throat.”
“How did you escape?”
“I fought him off.”
“Good for you, Miss Jones. … That was my last question. I think you’ll be a good fit for us. You understand exactly why we work so hard to put criminals behind bars. I’ll have HR give a call.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They sat in the comfort of the backyard in front of the antique statue dedicated to Sekmet. The cats lounged at their feet and around the statue. Vampire and ghoul. Conversation and instruction.
“In all your many guises, Anissa, you always keep the scar on your face. Why?”
“If you want people to remember you but no important details, you give them a specific detail to remember: a scar, a bad hair dye, bad teeth, loud socks. Something that stands out and makes the rest disappear in their minds.”
“Why?”
“If something happens and everyone remembers a woman with a scar on her face, they won’t look for a woman who has no scar. Also, it is easier to leave the real scar than to hide it in normal life.”
(High Society) They sat together in the restaurant as the wait staff hovered discreetly nearby. An older woman in expensive lace and a younger woman in a stylist dress a couple years out of date.
“May I ask about… about what happened?”
“A man tried to kidnap me but I fought him off.”
“Oh goodness, Donna! Was he caught?”
“No. I don’t actually know what happened to him. But this scar makes sure I never forget him.”
“You poor dear. You’re so strong and selfless. I feel I must donate to your shelter now.”
“I won’t say no. We need all the help we can get.”
(Street) They lounged together on the makeshift bed of tatty cushions and stained blankets. Their clothes, rough jeans and cheap t-shirts, were scattered about the floor.
“Babe, what happened here?”
“An ex-lover decided he didn’t want me to leave. He tried to kill me.”
“Damn.”
“But even as he cut me, I put three bullets in his chest.”
“You’re hardcore, Rose.”
“Don’t you fucking forget it.”
(Legal) They sat across from one another in the office. He behind the desk with his diplomas and awards mounted on the wall. She in front of the desk on an uncomfortable plastic chair. Smart suits and wary eyes for both of them.
“You’ve been through a lot I see. Will… that… affect your work as a freelance researcher? The facts we need to verify are often traumatic. You’ll be required to verify them to the best of your ability.”
“The scar? No, sir. I don’t believe so.”
“What happened?”
“A cultist tried to recruit me. When that failed, he tried to kill me.”
“Cultist?”
“Religious fanatic. Apparently, someone in the organization thought I had skills they needed. Sent a man in to befriend me. Then, when I refused him, he tried to cut my throat.”
“How did you escape?”
“I fought him off.”
“Good for you, Miss Jones. … That was my last question. I think you’ll be a good fit for us. You understand exactly why we work so hard to put criminals behind bars. I’ll have HR give a call.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They sat in the comfort of the backyard in front of the antique statue dedicated to Sekmet. The cats lounged at their feet and around the statue. Vampire and ghoul. Conversation and instruction.
“In all your many guises, Anissa, you always keep the scar on your face. Why?”
“If you want people to remember you but no important details, you give them a specific detail to remember: a scar, a bad hair dye, bad teeth, loud socks. Something that stands out and makes the rest disappear in their minds.”
“Why?”
“If something happens and everyone remembers a woman with a scar on her face, they won’t look for a woman who has no scar. Also, it is easier to leave the real scar than to hide it in normal life.”