Amanda Sefton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xp_daytripper) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
xp_logs2008-01-08 10:39 am
xp_daytripper) wrote in xp_logs2008-01-08 10:39 am
Operation: Shaboom: No Place Like Home
Wanda and Amanda catch up to talk about the investigation, and there's a disturbing element lent to things.
Sneaking around in a well-lit library was hard enough, especially if one happened to be nearly six feet tall without heels and hair that appreciated the ability it had to defy gravity. Still, Wanda managed to avoid five people looking to talk to her about her 'husband' (away on another business trip, apparently, and thank God for that much) or what she was baking for what social engagement. Soon, she spotted Amanda and she ducked down the other side of the bookshelves. Wanda pulled a book off the shelf so she could look like she was reading it but, really, she was hissing to Amanda "I am going to stab someone in the eye with either a bible or a chocolate chip."
The younger girl started, nearly dropping the books she was shelving, and then grinned at Wanda through the gaps in the shelves. "Not enjoying the whole Betty Crocker thing, then?" she asked, continuing to slot books away as she spoke.
"Me, a stay at home wife, can you believe that?" she demanded, scoffing. "At least you get a job that is near to what you actually do. Betty Crocker can go take a flying jump off a tall bridge, thank you very much."
"I got lucky, yeah. Apart from the grannies who like asking me about my dad and mum and when I'm going to find myself a nice young man, this isn't such a bad job." Amanda screwed up her nose a little. "Tho' a little less pink would be appreciated."
Wanda smirked. "But it compliments your hair and eyes so much," she cooed, batting her eyes. Before Amanda could slide a book at her nose, she ducked around the stacks and reappeared next to her. "Tell me you can take a break. If I do not talk to someone from my era soon, I will go positively batty."
Amanda poked out her tongue before she glanced at her watch. "Yeah, I should be able to manage that. Just let me tell Vera I'm off so she can cover the front desk." She lay the remaining books on the returns cart nearby, darting off to speak to an older, somewhat frumpy-looking woman in glasses, who nodded and shooed her off. Pausing only to grab her jacket and lunchpail, she draped the garment over her shoulders without putting her arms in the sleeves, as most of the other girls her age were doing, and reappeared by Wanda's side. "Right then, fresh air and modern perspective, let's go."
"How on earth do you keep that from falling off?" Wanda asked as they ducked out of the library doors. She was relieved about one thing, though. Considering her status in the church and social circles, it wouldn't look unusual for her to be seen with any of the younger Snow Valley members. Everyone would just assume she was taking them under her wing or talking to them about social events that were up and coming. But not too much or…tongues would start to wag, or something. Whatever 1950s women did when they gossiped. "I'm amazed Mark and Doug have not killed anyone at this point."
Amanda shrugged. "It's just a knack," she said, swinging the lunchpail slightly from one hand as she practically skipped down the library steps into the wintry New Mexico sunshine. "It's just a matter of getting into the cover, really. You'd think I'd be going balmy by now but... maybe I'm just finally getting the hang of undercover work?" She nodded at a solid wooden bench, set by the front path for the use of the town's senior citizens. "Anyone coming up with anything?"
Smoothing out her skirts, Wanda sank down onto the bench next to her. Unlike Amanda's pink designs, her closet was filled with more modest colors – a lot of neutrals and only one or two things with flashy colors. "Well, the only thing we know at this point is that whatever this is, it's elaborate. Whatever's behind this is probably incredibly powerful but what is weird is this town." She swung her hand in front of her, taking in the whole street. "Does this look evil or take over the world to you at all?"
"It looks... perfect." Amanda's tone turned a little dreamy as she took in the clean streets, the cheerful people, cars puttering past every so often. "Safe. A good place to grow up in, that's what Dad says." Her voice changed, the South London of her accent smoothing out into an American twang, with just hints of the original English.
Instantly, Wanda's back stiffened and she glanced at Amanda out of the corner of her eye. She looked, well, happy and content. Not like she was stuck in some bizarre reality. "I suppose that's true," Wanda commented neutrally. "It certainly is clean and safe enough." Without turning to face her assistant, she casually asked, "How long have you been working at the library, again?"
"Since I graduated," came the response, Amanda looking a little puzzled at Wanda. "But you knew that already, Mrs. Simons. It's only temporary, of course. Mother says I'll be snapped up soon enough, and then once I'm married, I won't have to work."
"Of course, I must be getting forgetful in my old age," replied Wanda, eyeing the town clock in the hopes that this…slip would be fast. "Is there anyone you might have taken a fancy to? Anyone new?" Well, gently grilling her own teammate was different but whoever Amanda was now might know a little more about this town they were in.
A blush appeared, mirroring the pink blouse she was wearing. "Not really," she said evasively, and then ducked her head, busying herself with the lunchpail. "Are you hungry, Mrs. Simons? Mother always packs me so much, I can't possibly eat it all. After all, a girl has to look after her figure..."
Marie-Ange was going to go on a rampage, Wanda realized, and she would probably help. "Mmm, I would normally love to – your mother puts my cooking to shame – but, sadly, I made myself a little something. But you could always take it down to the church, they would love any leftovers you might have." She blinked and nearly cursed. Where had that last bit come from? Fuck.
Amanda lifted her head, looking incredulous. "Wow, Wanda, talk about getting into character," she said, accent back in full force. Then she looked down at the open lunchpail. Huh, she didn't remember doing that. Must be getting vague in her old age. Taking out an apple, she bit into it before asking, mouth full. "So, anything else I should be looking for in the newspaper archives? I think I've managed to convince Vera I'm doing some kind of town history thing."
Now Wanda turned, arm across the back of the bench, with an intense look on her face. "Amanda, for the last several minutes, I have been having a conversation with you. You told me you were only working at the library until you were married off to some lucky young fellow and then tried to feed me because you had to watch your girlish figure. Do you remember nothing of that talk?"
The apple gummed up in her mouth, and Amanda hurriedly swallowed, nearly choking herself in the process. "You're having me on," she said at last, shaking her head. "No way I'd say all that sort of shite." Her fingers twitched. "Buggerit, I could really use a ciggie right now."
"There's some in my purse," Wanda said, "if you really want one. God knows, I am not going to smoke them if I can help it." The fact that they were always around was starting to drive her a bit mad, actually. She hadn't a care if anyone else smoked since it was their body but she'd always been firm about not smoking herself. "Well, that was a disturbing but not dangerous episode. No flipping out all ninja like, at least, or elder god possession. Just, apparently, possessed by a young teenager from the 1950s who blushes very easily."
So very tempting... But there were appearances to keep up, and by all accounts it was only married women and 'bad girls' who were allowed to smoke. The last thing she wanted to do was create a scandal... Amanda made an impatient noise. Apparently this place had a habit of rubbing off on you. "Better not - be a bit hard to explain the lapse, and 'Mandy MacDonald' is very much a non-smoker." Laying the rest of the sandwich back in her pail, Amanda shook her head. "We need to sort this, and quick. If we're starting to get sucked in..." The worst of it was the idea wasn't entirely unappealing. If Angelo had been here too... She pushed aside memories of the Mexican boy from her 'father's' garage. That wasn't her, it was the persona she'd taken on.
"And I, on the other hand, as Ana Simons, apparently smoke like a very polite chimney. Good Lord." She shook her head and ignored the fact that her fingers wanted to dive in and mess up the gel that had, for once, managed to get her hair into some semblance of decency. "Have you learned anything from the newspaper archives at all?"
"There's no crime," Amanda said immediately. "Well, next to none, and what there is can be chalked up to 'youthful spirits' and the like. Which is weird, since even the Fifties had crime - people just don't change that much. And the stories, they're all the same - it's like it's the same few years, repeating over and over. But that could be the small town thing."
Thinking aloud, Wanda asked, "What about the death rate in town? Did you take a look at the obits?"
"Not yet." Amanda shook her head, annoyed at herself for missing something so obvious. "I'll take a look and let you know after work?" She grinned. "You can chaperone me home, if you like."
"Certainly -- need to keep a young lady like yourself safe from whoever might roam around the streets at night." Wanda winked at Amanda and stood up, stretching slightly. Sexy underwear bedamned, this job was going to be one hell of a headache.
Sneaking around in a well-lit library was hard enough, especially if one happened to be nearly six feet tall without heels and hair that appreciated the ability it had to defy gravity. Still, Wanda managed to avoid five people looking to talk to her about her 'husband' (away on another business trip, apparently, and thank God for that much) or what she was baking for what social engagement. Soon, she spotted Amanda and she ducked down the other side of the bookshelves. Wanda pulled a book off the shelf so she could look like she was reading it but, really, she was hissing to Amanda "I am going to stab someone in the eye with either a bible or a chocolate chip."
The younger girl started, nearly dropping the books she was shelving, and then grinned at Wanda through the gaps in the shelves. "Not enjoying the whole Betty Crocker thing, then?" she asked, continuing to slot books away as she spoke.
"Me, a stay at home wife, can you believe that?" she demanded, scoffing. "At least you get a job that is near to what you actually do. Betty Crocker can go take a flying jump off a tall bridge, thank you very much."
"I got lucky, yeah. Apart from the grannies who like asking me about my dad and mum and when I'm going to find myself a nice young man, this isn't such a bad job." Amanda screwed up her nose a little. "Tho' a little less pink would be appreciated."
Wanda smirked. "But it compliments your hair and eyes so much," she cooed, batting her eyes. Before Amanda could slide a book at her nose, she ducked around the stacks and reappeared next to her. "Tell me you can take a break. If I do not talk to someone from my era soon, I will go positively batty."
Amanda poked out her tongue before she glanced at her watch. "Yeah, I should be able to manage that. Just let me tell Vera I'm off so she can cover the front desk." She lay the remaining books on the returns cart nearby, darting off to speak to an older, somewhat frumpy-looking woman in glasses, who nodded and shooed her off. Pausing only to grab her jacket and lunchpail, she draped the garment over her shoulders without putting her arms in the sleeves, as most of the other girls her age were doing, and reappeared by Wanda's side. "Right then, fresh air and modern perspective, let's go."
"How on earth do you keep that from falling off?" Wanda asked as they ducked out of the library doors. She was relieved about one thing, though. Considering her status in the church and social circles, it wouldn't look unusual for her to be seen with any of the younger Snow Valley members. Everyone would just assume she was taking them under her wing or talking to them about social events that were up and coming. But not too much or…tongues would start to wag, or something. Whatever 1950s women did when they gossiped. "I'm amazed Mark and Doug have not killed anyone at this point."
Amanda shrugged. "It's just a knack," she said, swinging the lunchpail slightly from one hand as she practically skipped down the library steps into the wintry New Mexico sunshine. "It's just a matter of getting into the cover, really. You'd think I'd be going balmy by now but... maybe I'm just finally getting the hang of undercover work?" She nodded at a solid wooden bench, set by the front path for the use of the town's senior citizens. "Anyone coming up with anything?"
Smoothing out her skirts, Wanda sank down onto the bench next to her. Unlike Amanda's pink designs, her closet was filled with more modest colors – a lot of neutrals and only one or two things with flashy colors. "Well, the only thing we know at this point is that whatever this is, it's elaborate. Whatever's behind this is probably incredibly powerful but what is weird is this town." She swung her hand in front of her, taking in the whole street. "Does this look evil or take over the world to you at all?"
"It looks... perfect." Amanda's tone turned a little dreamy as she took in the clean streets, the cheerful people, cars puttering past every so often. "Safe. A good place to grow up in, that's what Dad says." Her voice changed, the South London of her accent smoothing out into an American twang, with just hints of the original English.
Instantly, Wanda's back stiffened and she glanced at Amanda out of the corner of her eye. She looked, well, happy and content. Not like she was stuck in some bizarre reality. "I suppose that's true," Wanda commented neutrally. "It certainly is clean and safe enough." Without turning to face her assistant, she casually asked, "How long have you been working at the library, again?"
"Since I graduated," came the response, Amanda looking a little puzzled at Wanda. "But you knew that already, Mrs. Simons. It's only temporary, of course. Mother says I'll be snapped up soon enough, and then once I'm married, I won't have to work."
"Of course, I must be getting forgetful in my old age," replied Wanda, eyeing the town clock in the hopes that this…slip would be fast. "Is there anyone you might have taken a fancy to? Anyone new?" Well, gently grilling her own teammate was different but whoever Amanda was now might know a little more about this town they were in.
A blush appeared, mirroring the pink blouse she was wearing. "Not really," she said evasively, and then ducked her head, busying herself with the lunchpail. "Are you hungry, Mrs. Simons? Mother always packs me so much, I can't possibly eat it all. After all, a girl has to look after her figure..."
Marie-Ange was going to go on a rampage, Wanda realized, and she would probably help. "Mmm, I would normally love to – your mother puts my cooking to shame – but, sadly, I made myself a little something. But you could always take it down to the church, they would love any leftovers you might have." She blinked and nearly cursed. Where had that last bit come from? Fuck.
Amanda lifted her head, looking incredulous. "Wow, Wanda, talk about getting into character," she said, accent back in full force. Then she looked down at the open lunchpail. Huh, she didn't remember doing that. Must be getting vague in her old age. Taking out an apple, she bit into it before asking, mouth full. "So, anything else I should be looking for in the newspaper archives? I think I've managed to convince Vera I'm doing some kind of town history thing."
Now Wanda turned, arm across the back of the bench, with an intense look on her face. "Amanda, for the last several minutes, I have been having a conversation with you. You told me you were only working at the library until you were married off to some lucky young fellow and then tried to feed me because you had to watch your girlish figure. Do you remember nothing of that talk?"
The apple gummed up in her mouth, and Amanda hurriedly swallowed, nearly choking herself in the process. "You're having me on," she said at last, shaking her head. "No way I'd say all that sort of shite." Her fingers twitched. "Buggerit, I could really use a ciggie right now."
"There's some in my purse," Wanda said, "if you really want one. God knows, I am not going to smoke them if I can help it." The fact that they were always around was starting to drive her a bit mad, actually. She hadn't a care if anyone else smoked since it was their body but she'd always been firm about not smoking herself. "Well, that was a disturbing but not dangerous episode. No flipping out all ninja like, at least, or elder god possession. Just, apparently, possessed by a young teenager from the 1950s who blushes very easily."
So very tempting... But there were appearances to keep up, and by all accounts it was only married women and 'bad girls' who were allowed to smoke. The last thing she wanted to do was create a scandal... Amanda made an impatient noise. Apparently this place had a habit of rubbing off on you. "Better not - be a bit hard to explain the lapse, and 'Mandy MacDonald' is very much a non-smoker." Laying the rest of the sandwich back in her pail, Amanda shook her head. "We need to sort this, and quick. If we're starting to get sucked in..." The worst of it was the idea wasn't entirely unappealing. If Angelo had been here too... She pushed aside memories of the Mexican boy from her 'father's' garage. That wasn't her, it was the persona she'd taken on.
"And I, on the other hand, as Ana Simons, apparently smoke like a very polite chimney. Good Lord." She shook her head and ignored the fact that her fingers wanted to dive in and mess up the gel that had, for once, managed to get her hair into some semblance of decency. "Have you learned anything from the newspaper archives at all?"
"There's no crime," Amanda said immediately. "Well, next to none, and what there is can be chalked up to 'youthful spirits' and the like. Which is weird, since even the Fifties had crime - people just don't change that much. And the stories, they're all the same - it's like it's the same few years, repeating over and over. But that could be the small town thing."
Thinking aloud, Wanda asked, "What about the death rate in town? Did you take a look at the obits?"
"Not yet." Amanda shook her head, annoyed at herself for missing something so obvious. "I'll take a look and let you know after work?" She grinned. "You can chaperone me home, if you like."
"Certainly -- need to keep a young lady like yourself safe from whoever might roam around the streets at night." Wanda winked at Amanda and stood up, stretching slightly. Sexy underwear bedamned, this job was going to be one hell of a headache.