Hiphopscotch|(Monte Cristo) FINISHED

[edie]

Puck hurried along the street, her boots clip clop clapping on the pavement. She was an angry little pixie right now, oh yes, angry in her special bad mood shoes. Could bash someone’s knees in with very little effort, indeed, she could if she wanted to. And she did want to, certainly, but that wouldn’t be prudent, now would it? To leave a man bleeding on the sidewalk whilst the police chased her. And she was fast, quite fast indeed, but they’d catch her as they’d caught her before. And then they’d find the hallucinogens. Not t’all prudent, not t’all. So she’d have to make do with a frown and a hunch and a partially satisfying noise. Least it kept people from interacting with her, thank Christ.

Well, that’d gone fine and dandy, thank you very much. She’d waited and waited and waited at the café run by the charming Greek immigrants. Waited for what-certainly-seemed-like hours, pouring sugar on her tea dregs to occupy her time until he showed up. Until he showed up, oh yes, which he had not, no sir. And why not, she had asked, more like whined upon reflection actually. Why hadn’t he come to claim his gift? She’d only had to make the rounds for forty minutes to acquire it, and the least he could do was meet her at the place he’d specified, beg your pardon m’lord.

So how, exactly, was she to know there was more than one café run by charming Greek immigrants in the general vicinity he’d told her? How how how, the girl would like to know, the furrow in her brow deepening, her footsteps turning into stomps—

CRUNCH.

Now what was this? she asked herself, dropping to her knees to find the cause of the noise that had reminded her for a moment of breaking bones. Or glass. But it wasn’t either of those, oh no, no, no, there were no skulls or bottles in the area, least none Puck could see. Her nose near touching the sidewalk and all, it seemed unlikely she’d miss them if they did happen to be there. No, all she could see were the cripple crumple crumbled remains of some pale blue chalk.

And the girl broke into a grin, right there on the streets of this city. Ahhh...sidewalk chalk, a wee little pleasure of life, oh yes indeed. Quite a pity she’d performed an unwitting magic trick and turned it into dust, most-sincerest-of-apologies-sir-or-madam. But what a charming surprise! There were the pale blue lines of a most clumsily drawn hopscotch court, numbered one through ten. She looked around curiously. Who on earth could have done such a thing, she’d like to know, oh yes. Not a soul appeared, however, despite her oh so careful searching. So. So so so there was very little for her to do, ‘cept rise, stand on one foot, and hop...

...Right into somebody, apparently. Given her contact with another person that sent Puck tumbling down, arms and legs flailing and whatnot. She hurriedly apologized, staring up into her very own obstacle’s face. “Beg your pardon, most sorry I am, should’ve been looking where I was going, oh yes I should have, didn’t mean to inconvenience you like that, are you quite all right?”

Which, of course, meant “d’you think you can manage without your pocketbook, seeing as I managed to snag it in my fall?”, oh yes it did.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

The hospital staff had warned against this. Monte Cristo didn't mind helping out at the local pediatric ward; in fact, it was the highlight of his week. He had a knack for making people smile, a talent he rarely got to use with kids, who appreciated it the most, and who actually made him smile in return. It was always a nice getaway from the pretensions of adult life. At the hospital, the nurses just referred to him as "the eccentric billionaire" with bemused smiles, and the children treated him as one of them, as if he weren't a white guy with a mansion and a handful of cars.

Of course, he had to travel through some pretty tough neighborhoods to get there. It was nothing new to him- after all, he'd grown up in a poor part of town. He could defend himself if the need arose. And he certainly wasn't stupid enough to leave his Jaguar parked on one of these streets. Instead, he opted to walk from the hospital to a secure parking lot on the outskirts of the Bronx. It was daylight, after all; he didn't expect anyone to rob a six-odd-foot tall full-grown and well-built male.

He turned a corner, deep in thought about something or other, he could never remember what. This reverie was broken when he bumped into something, or rather, someone. He reached out, trying to stop the person's fall.

The person looked up at him. She was a little blond thing, little compared to Monte Cristo at least. She began to chatter, and Monte Cristo gave her his usual well-meaning but condescending smile.

"I'm all right. You took a bit of a spill there, didn't you?" He helped her to stand with one hand wrapped around her arm. At the same time, he held out his other hand, palm up. "My wallet, if you please."

[edie]

Goodness, he was strong. Picking her right up off the sidewalk and all. She continued to ramble, straightening out her clothes in a most distracted manner. "Really don't know what I was thinking, most likely nothing at all, otherwise would've noticed you, sir, certainly—Oh." He'd noticed, then. Noticed the slip of never-quite-as-nimble-as-she-tended-to-think fingers into his pocket as she'd made her most dramatic introduction to this tall mister. Prolly was still noticing, noticing the pretense of modesty was just so's she could slip his wallet into her pocket. So Puck stopped that and looked up again, momentarily horror shocked in her wide wide wide eyes, mouth tightly pursed as she thought.

Then she giggled. Giggled as she brought one hand up to her mouth, and giggled whilst the other scrabbled inside her pocket for this tall mister’s oh so recently snatched personal belonging. “You’re quite the clever one, sir,” she told him merrily, shaking slightly from her laughter. Handed him his wallet with a quick bow, and continued, “Cert’nly observant and all other nice, pleasant things. Most foolish of me to try to take something of yours, eh? Most unwise, most thoughtless, most most most stupid.”

Indeed t’was, the girl realized. Stupid, that is. And she stopped laughing quite as suddenly as she’d started, biting her lip. Looking up at the tall strong and clever man in front of her, who most abruptly reminded her of him. Something about the way this mister smiled, which was familiar and comforting, ‘specially due to the brittle cheer it seemed to radiate, made her recall her own lord. And what would he think, hmm? What would he think of this latest-of-the-many messes she managed to get herself into. He’d think her stupid, that’s what he’d do, oh yes. Call her so, as well, just like he had on the phone only-too-recently-today, call Puck just exactly what she was at present. Stupid, stupid girl.

Now she was close to tears, and that wouldn’t be wise. Wouldn’t be wise to start sobbing with the splish sploosh splashing of tears, right here and now. Only cry in dark corners or tiled rooms, t’was the rule, and no real way to reach either of those safe zones quick enough, oh no no no. Slumped against the stoop instead, shoulders raised way way way up to her ears and toe of her left boot rubbing bashfully ‘gainst the ground. Didn’t want to cry, no sir, not in front of this tall mister she’d more-or-less just robbed. Puck looked back at him. “Just how many Greek owned coffee shops are there in this city?” she blurted out miserably.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo looked at this woman with an expression of amusement and mild curiosity. She was a strange one, to be sure. First, she had been giddy as she handed him his wallet. Now she seemed to be upset about something, something to do with a Greek restaurant. Whatever it was, he hated to see a woman upset. Unless, of course, that woman was the wife of one of his enemies, but he doubted this was the case.

He studied this woman's doll-like face. She was clearly distressed. What would it take to cheer her up? He was a firm believer in the power of money, and since he had quite a bit of it, he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to bring that bright smile of hers back to the surface.

Monte Cristo stooped down next to her and gave her a warm smile, much like a parent who is trying to comfort a child. "Don't let's worry about the wallet. I'm just used to having my pocket picked." He chuckled.

"I'm not too familiar with Greek coffee shops. I prefer French ones. Would you like to go and find one? A good shot of caffeine always cheers me up."

[edie]

“Well, I don’t either,” the girl said, in answer to her very own question. “But t’is certainly more than is necessary, indeed. And it wouldn’t be too much to ask that the charming Greek immigrants spread out a bit, rather than sticking together in a clump, now would it? Course t’would, that’s how these things go.”

She rubbed her eyes, oh so hard with scrunched up fists. Partially to smish smash smoosh some sense into them and prevent the tears from coming out, partially to consider this tall mister’s offer without looking ‘im smack dab in the face. So. Why on earth was he taking an interest in her? She’d nearly knocked him over, or-rather-would-have-if-she-wasn’t-so-light-and-him-so-tall, and taken his money for a moment there at least. Not exactly the beginnings of a long lasting relationship, oh no sir, wouldn’t she know it. Surprised he hadn’t brought down a p’liceman yet, which would just be another event in a thus far fantastic day. Still. He seemed quite the gentleman, this mister did. Perhaps that explained it? Just typical niceties for him? A possibility, certainly.

“Possibly,” Puck mumbled, crossing her arms and pulling up her legs. Christ, t’was going to take some fight to keep her cry inside. “Maybe, it depends, perchance, conceivably, not sure, could happen, dunno.” She turned to the gentleman and shrugged with a tense smile. Oh dear, his expression contained no trace of malice any more, and that just made the whole situation much much much worse, now didn’t it? “Don’t particularly care for coffee, really, but that’s not a deciding factor, oh no sir. Thank you kindly, most most most kindly indeed, for the offer. So I s’pose I’d like to, it would seem. So long as I wasn’t a—what’d’ya call it, something you have to put up with ‘gainst yer wishes—bother. Um. But that’s not the problem. Oh no, t’isn’t the problem at all.”

The problem, but of course, being the fact she needed to find her master, and soon soon soon. Before he got tired of waiting for her and simply disappeared. He’d done that before, oh yes, quite the terror it’d been. Quite the strain on her mind, tracking him down through ice cold trails and unhelpful connections. T’was magic, it t’was. But she didn’t care for it, no no no.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo's smile did not fade one bit. Here was an entertaining creature. She was clearly rather torn up about the Greek coffee shop situation, which was affecting her mood quite a bit. Given her lamentation that there were so many of these Greek coffee shops all in one place, he deduced that she had had an appointment of some sort at one of them, and had chosen incorrectly. It followed, then, that there was someone in this borough who was waiting for her somewhere, and if her condition was any indication, that someone was very distressed.

He listened as she declared her nonchalance toward visiting another coffee shop, citing a slight distaste for coffee as a reason, then somewhat agreeing to go. Whether this girl wanted to go to a coffee shop was of zero consequence to Monte Cristo. He just happened to have some free time, and felt like doing a good deed for once, in the form of cheering this poor girl up. Maybe such an act would help atone for one of the many sins he'd committed before suddenly surfacing in New York.

"You're not a bother at all, m'dear. If coffee is not to your liking, is there anywhere else you would like to go? I have a few hours to devote to such a task."

He stood up and extended his hand for her to take as she got to her feet. A few hours would be more than he needed to figure out just where this girl belonged and return her there in one giddy piece.

"Do you live around here?" he asked with an air of nonchalance, as if it were not the first of a series of questions he would ask in determining who she was and who was waiting for her. He had a talent for getting plenty of information while revealing nothing of himself. Anyone who attempted to dissect this man would quickly find themselves facing an insurmountable brick wall.

[edie]

Manners are very much an important thing, oh yes, she knew quite so little as that. When to say h’lo, when to smile, when to please-and-thank-you. Pleasantries of that such and sort, and she was familiar with ‘em, yes, yes, yes. A polite creature was Puck. So so so why wasn’t she accepting his hand, this tall mister’s hand extended oh so kindly, as a polite creature is wont t’do? Remained scrunched up on the stoop, just, just, just looking it. Wit’ wide staring eyes, an’ no trace of tears any more. No, he’d managed to rid her of those, he had, and filled her way way way up with the urges to cry instead. T’was the issue with niceness, indeed.

“Well, it’s kind of you to say so, sir,” she replied, trying hard to focus on his face, but still coming back to that terribly conscientious hand hand hand. “Horribly kind is what t’is, indeed t’is sir. Very—um—”

This lack of manners on her very own part was chew chew chewing away at the considerably small attention span the girl thought herself ever so luck to possess. All she wanted t’do was be courteous, but that seemed t’be too too too much to ask! And why, exactly? ’Cause of her lord and his wishes. Couldn’t let him get away and leave her with the hallucinogens for a whoever-does-know-the-amount-of-time-such-a-thing-equals-certainly-isn’t-speaking-least-not-to-her long time. She shut her eyes—was she feeling faint, or sad right now, could be both—and shoved her hand into a pocket to feel the brown paper wrapped package and make sure t’was safe.

Still. She was a fast one, wasn’t she? Fastest little bugger this side of the ocean, he’d called her. So so so, only stood to reason she’d be fast enough to catch him before he performed his trick? A possibility. And she was curious about this tall mister, oh yes, curious ‘bout why he knew his way round the streets oh so well when he didn’t look the part, no sir.

The girl relaxed, after-what-seemed-far-too-long-past-proper, and fin fin finally accepted his hand. Still a big eyed trusting child after all this time, t’would appear. “My name’s Puck,” she told him, once fully upright, with a real grin. “I kinda wander ev’ry which way, so’s don’t really have a proper home. Guess you could say this city’s where I live, and this is part of this city, so. Around, yes. Anyways. What's the other question?”

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

The girl took a while to take his hand. Monte Cristo could practically see the thoughts racing through her mind, but what was bothering her, he could not discern. Once she took his hand, he helped her up easily. Puck, her name was. Certainly an interesting name.

Her lack of a home did not help him much. There had to be somewhere he could take her and be sure she was in the right hands. A place she frequented, a pillow on which she rested her head. He could not imagine such a sweet little person prowling the streets at night, but one never could tell these days, when thugs drove around in Escalades and billionaires stalked the back streets.

She was grinning now, which made Monte Cristo a touch more confident that she would be okay. He would have to be a bit more forward if he wanted to get the right information. He would be careful not to ask too much or offend her.

"I just want to help in any way I can," he replied with a smile. "Whether that means finding a coffee shop for you, or getting you to where you belong. I am at your disposal."

[edie]

“Oh.” She was quiet for a bit, rocking back’n’forth from some sort of shyness quite previously um um unknown. T’was something here, something in this general vicinity, that was making her all oh so bashful like. And though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, not quite, oh no sir, far too vague for that, seemed possible the reserve was connected to him. This tall mister and his concern, but t’was only a guess, since-she-has-to-venture-something-as-to-why-she’s-gone-all-silent-quite.

Though not a stupid one, no, no, no. She knew there t’be some truth in such a guess, even if only partially and eventually false. For when was the last time she’d made the decisions? Chose what to do? Erm...Puck stuck her thumb just inside her mouth, and giggled at the utter lack lack lack of an answer. Couldn’t ‘member, no idea t’all, seemed always to be all ‘bout her lord or his lady, lady, lady. As right it should be, though, indeed. He’d plucked her from nothing and shown her magic. So. So so so she was indebted. Or something.

Regardless. She turned concentration back to this tall mister, with a slight bob of her head and a wee tired chuckle. It’d been a trying day thus far, an’ she still had the hallucinogens hum hum humming in her pocket. “Appy polly loggies,” she said, articulating as well as possible given the obstruction of her thumb. “D’you ever have days where your personality just seems to falls to pieces? Common occurrence, unfortunately. Beg yer pardon, sir.” And another thing. She’d told him hers, so protocol said she should know his, right? Yet he seemed content to leave her in the dark, oh yes, remain just a mister, just a man on the street. Which he was, all-technicalities-included-and-all but still. Might have to push harder. Not a problem, not t’all.

“I’m not ‘tirely sure where I belong, sir, but I suspect t’is somewhere in this city,” the girl continued, expression and sentiments void of irony. Took some things too seriously, and always at the wrong intervals, she did. Not much could be done ‘bout that. “But you’re oh so very welcome to help me locate a café run by charming Greek immigrants, which I’ve been informed has a blue door and some floweresque name. Thus differentiating it from other Greek coffee shops, I s’pose, but I know only so few that t’is not a fact.”

Puck shoved her hands into her pockets, newfound timidity hardening her smile. “Only if that’s pleasing to you, sir,” she said, as an after-the-fact-thought. Mayhaps he wasn’t interested in helping her deliver drugs to her master? Strangers things were possible, oh yes indeed.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo listened to the girl's response, taking special care to note the information she had about the coffee shop in question. He did not know the Bronx well enough to immediately recognize the coffee shop by its description, though. They would have to go about looking for it the old-fashioned way, at least in part.

Without seeming to direct his attention from Puck, Monte Cristo reached into his jacket pocket and produced a cell phone, and began to tap away at it. "Let's see what we can do," he said with that same smile.

He was only vaguely aware that he had not introduced himself yet, as he was in the habit of remaining a stranger to most of the people he encountered. It was incredibly rude of him, of course, but he always figured either the rest of his etiquette would make up for the oversight, or the person was someone he didn't care to introduce himself to anyway. This particular interaction was a case of the former.

He pressed a final button and tucked his phone away, then offered his arm to Puck. He had just sent a text message to one Bertuccio, the head of his personnel, with the description of the coffee shop and instructions to comb the Bronx for it. Meanwhile, he and Puck would venture to find the place on foot.

"It's a lovely day for a walk, don't you think?" he remarked carelessly. As far as he was concerned, the skies could be overcast with storm clouds, and it would have been a lovely day for a walk. As moods go, Monte Cristo's was always difficult to ruin. Which was probably in the best interest of mankind, since, as many of his former acquaintances could attest, once he was disturbed, he became a dangerous man to reckon with.

[edie]

Puck let out a little thank-you-very-much sigh. Utterly possible this could be a good day after all, it was. Even with her mix up and disappearing skills and demeanor swinging back’n’forth’n’back’n’so. The tall mister currently known as “sir” had smiled at her many a time, ignored her lack of manners, and had the courtesy himself to ask her opinion. Hadn’t pushed her into it, though. Hadn’t forced her to do so, rather much like—never mind. Not important. Fact remained she’d done what she could, and now he was oh so graciously doing the rest.

“I do appreciate this, sir,” she assured him, after he’d finished tip tap typing away on the whatchamacallit, his telephone thing. Fascinating, whatever it truly was. “T’is a bit of a mess you’re helping me out of, so casual like. Not behaviour one usually finds in this city.”

Delicately, quite delicately, she accepted his arm. Very wise of him to offer it to her, indeed. Even with the lost-but-newly-found hope she’d developed, the girl would most likely stumble down the pavement with bleary abandon. Unless there was something to support her. Lucky little wretch, having this tall mister here to keep her upright. Good day, potentially; long day, definitely.

“And t’is quite a marvelous shade of gray. The sky, that is,” the girl commented, looking up and around in regards to his comment. “Like the back of a mirror, y’know, sir? Walking’s as good an activity as any, and suits me most certainly.”

Puck glanced over at him through her eyelashes, shyness feigned to hide her evergrowing curiousity. Christ, he was a secretive one, indeed. Not truly a problem, though; she’d gone through enough acquaintanceships with even less information than she knew about this tall mister. Didn’t mean she wished it to remain so, no sir. T’would be a certain pity to know him today and never ever ever again. So might as well make the most of the opportunities she could find, eh? Scope out information and all.

“Are you new here, sir?” she inquired, all wide eyed friendliness with a twinge of calculation. “To this city, I mean. I only ask ‘cause such mannerisms as yours generally mean a foreign-to-this-general-area-anyways upbringing.”

The girl thought about this, then added hastily, “Please don’t feel I’m prying or such, sir. Just general smalltalk, s’all.” Wouldn’t want to risk friendship for details, oh no indeed. She could go all quiet like, if that's what it took.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo turned to look at Puck when she addressed him, inquiring whether he was new to the area. This was a question that was put to him often. He was aware of how much he stood out among the general populace; he preferred it that way. Fading into the background was something he rarely did, and when he did, it meant he had something to gain from doing so.

He was, however, doing an excellent job of concealing his background. He spoke with no trace of a New Orleanian accent, or any accent at all. He could pick up any accent he wished, including that of a New Yorker, but he preferred not to, as it helped him stand out. He also seemed to be hiding his fortune well. Few people guessed he was well-off, until he told them his name.

"Yes, I am new here." He offered Puck a wide smile. "How observant of you to notice. I've encountered the lack of consideration for others as well, though it doesn't bother me much. I figure everyone gets what they give in return."

As he said this, his facial expression did not change, indicating that he was quite comfortable with the general mood of the city.

"I just moved here a few weeks ago, and am still trying to figure things out." He tilted his head in amusement. "And you, Puck? Have you been living around here for long?" he asked, his tone pleasant and light.

[edie]

“Hmm.” She considered his question seriously, even stopped eye flickering and finger twitching. How long had she been here? Long enough to be friendly and familiar with its layout, saving the odd coffee shop, of course. Long enough that her seedy surroundings barely got a flinch of discomfort out of her anymore. Long enough so her parents must have given up on her. But ‘long enough’ wasn’t a numerical equivalent to how long New York had been her home.
 
Ha. Ha. Ha. What silly things she was thinking, all insightful like. Best do away with that ‘fore this tall mister caught on. So Puck giggled and counted, “One two three four five—five?—five. Five years.” She wiggled the fingers of her free hand for emphasis. “Oh yes, I’ve been in this city for five years. Though sometimes and occasionally it can seem just so much as a few weeks. Time’s a fickle sorta mistress, indeed sir.”
 
T’was necessary to be a fickle sorta mistress herself, yes it was. Kept her on the whole carefree free free to smile like s’all good when it’s really falling to pieces. And when she was off the whole? Then the girl could sensibly drown herself in senselessness, ignoring what-was-the-majority’s-version-at-least-of reality. Couldn’t be this way if anyone had the knowledge of her wits. They’d strip her of her whimsical madness, then she’d have to function and utterly. And oh how poorly she’d feel then, banned from her friends and acquaintances. No one can love a lass who’s sane. No one intriguing, anyways.
 
Which was why she remained all charm’n’delirum as she beamed up at this tall mister, prattling on about how “T’is very polite to call me observant, sir, and I wouldn’t ‘spect anything less, even given our oh so short acquaintanceship. Though those who know me might in all potentialities disagree with you there, polite indeed. And I s’pose that might be valid, ‘bout the returning and giving. But badness just seems so so so prominent and all. Disheartening, is that the word?”

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

It took Puck a while to think of how long she had been in New York, but Monte Cristo figured most people did not actively keep track of how long they had been somewhere. He was not one of those people; he had a tendency to wander if he remained in one city for too long. He was actually not sure how long he would be in New York. Until he tired of it, he supposed, which could take weeks or years. Time was a fickle mistress, but he could be just as fickle, or possibly even more so.

He nodded, matching Puck's stride. "'Disheartening' indeed. I could go on for days about the downturn of modern society." He gave her a carefree smile. "But that would hardly be productive. All talk and no action; I suspect that may be one of the underlying problems of society today." Then he shrugged, as if the underlying problems of society had absolutely no effect on him whatsoever.

A small beep sounded, and Monte Cristo reached into his jacket and took out his phone. A touch of a button and a brief glance at the screen told him the address of the place in question, which was all he needed to know. "We may have found your coffee shop," he said cheerfully, putting the phone away again. "We're not too far from it, actually. Just a few more blocks in that direction."

He gently steered her toward the right, down another street lined with cars parallel-parked along the sidewalk.

[edie]

She bobbed her head solemnly, a reply to his thoughts on society. Oh yes, yes, yes. Puck knew quite more than a bit ‘bout its downturn. First hand experience bringing it about and all, what with the substances and the pocketpicking and the old in-out-in-out. Yet even as frowned upon as her magic was, certainly seemed to make those who received it quite hap hap happy. They were in a surrealistic business, her lord would tell her. Brought about love and other fantastical things in an often upsidedownways fashion, t’was true. And they couldn’t expect just anybody to understand such, now could they? No sir. So’s they just had to deal with the labels of criminals, ‘cause they remained magic underneath, oh yes indeed.

Though before she could at-least-attempt-to express any or all of her very own views, along came a rather commanding BEEP. Oh so loud enough as to make her flinch, and tight tight tighten her grip on this tall mister’s arm, prolly a wee bit presumptuously for this stage of their acquaintanceship an’ all. “Beg your pardon, sir,” she apologized, after relaxing, and after noticing the BEEP came from his curious telephone machine. “Realize I’m part of the new generation, or the bit of it able to walk and talk about mostly coherently anyways, but Christ. Technology’s just a sorta magic I can not seem to master, oh no sir, not in the slightest.”

Then the girl noticed the street was different or-at-least-as-different-as-can-be-expected-in-this-part-of-this-city, and registered what he’d told her while she’d been all shockwise. Made her grin a delightful grin, it did.

“D’you mean it?” she asked, then shook her head with a small laugh. “Course you do, sir, how silly of me to ask. Thank you oh so kindly, sir. Sure I’m making a mess of myself with gratitude and such, but can’t help it, oh no I can’t. Still. The issue with society seems to be those who have ideas with how to fix all the bits and pieces, very much so many of them, they don’t do much about it. Not nearly as much as the ones who keep making the bits and pieces smaller and smaller and smaller, anyways. Until t’is impossible to stick ‘em back together, no matter how brilliant the solution.”

She stuck her hand in her pocket and squeezed the hallucinogens for comfort. Soon, soon, soon enough they’d be out of her control and in her master’s. He’d know what to do ‘bout them once he got them, indeed. “So the method of fixing society’s simple enough, combine the ideas with work effort. But that’s only simple on. Um. Paper. Bugger all.”

Puck turned back to her companion. “Is it possible for natures to change?” she asked, truly too thoughtful for her own good. “If so, mayhaps everything can go all peachy keen. Eventually, anyways.”