cuddletalk | ✨ video; oo1. un: pandemonium

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✨ video; oo1. un: pandemonium

[The video opens on Magnus, hair a little more mussed than usual, eyeliner in place but smudged, clearly working hard and distracted.]

Hello, everyone, I am Magnus Bane, and I have something of a dilemma.

[The camera swings around to a table with a small cauldron on it, a set of brass scales, and several small bottles and jars, most of them empty. Magnus appears again, keeping the bookshelf in view over his shoulder.]

Of course I brought my spellbook with me, and my brewing equipment—never trust a cauldron you haven't seasoned yourself—but where might one go to buy potion ingredients? I'm low on… [He looks over his shoulder, assessing the supplies he's brought with him.] ...saffron threads, vampire hair, grave dirt, lavender...well, everything. Space was at a premium and I'm afraid I couldn't bring my inventory with me.

[The phone comes with Magnus, floats with Magnus on a cloud of blue smoke, as he walks away from his brewing headquarters, and now in the background can be seen half-unpacked boxes, the walls hung with sweeping red and blue silks. There's stuff everywhere, far too much for the apartment's size, but the image steadies as Magnus turns again, sweeping out his arms.] I only need the basics for now. And if you need something, do let me know. No love potions, but I conjure up a wicked energy booster for mornings after. Or nights before.

[With a wink, Magnus snaps his fingers and the video ends in a colorful shimmer of light before the screen goes black.]

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Oh.

[Are they talking about murder already? And to think he'd wondered if this place might be a little dull compared to Brooklyn.]

Well, I don't know anyone here who needs burying. But I've only been here a day or so. ...it wouldn't exactly generate positive energy though, I would think. Maybe depending on who...no, better not risk it.

[ Is it actually the m-word? Or is just preemptive self-defense? He doesn't really spend much time thinking about these things, so he doesn't actually know. ]

Don't worry, I haven't met anyone who deserves it. So why do you want all these fancy things?

[Isn't preemptive self-defense...murder?? Not that it isn't sometimes a good idea...]

Oh, magical brewing purposes. I find everyone needs a potion or two every so often, and that's what I do. Well, one of the things, as the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I don't know if I'll be able to do anything complex, probably no summonings, but having the basics available will be so helpful.

What's a Brooklyn?

[ He's getting better at modern things and terms, but every once in a while he gets surprised and he's flying blindly. When he goes on to talk about potions, though, Vasquez gives a slightly dismissive snort. ]

What, magic? What kind of potions do you make?

Brooklyn, New York? It's not where I'm from originally, but it's home. And in Brooklyn, I make potions for all sorts of things, but I assume here I'll have a lot of demand for things like restful sleep and extra energy, maybe increased observation, stealth, that kind of thing. Why, do you have magic-users where you're from?

[It takes all his willpower to keep himself from adding "cowboy" or "Tex" onto the end of that. Eventually it will slip out, but Magnus is at least trying to seem professional at the moment.]

I haven't even thought about going up to New York. Much too far and it's too cold.

[Truth be told, Vasquez doesn't like to go anywhere that dips below the freezing point in the winter, because his blood runs hot and he needs to stay in places that will allow him to stay toasty and warm.]

Not magic users, but people who believes in that sort of thing. Comanche, red devils, those sorts of people.

Tsch. Come tell me that in July.

[He might have magical temperature control in his apartment, but July in New York, even the buildings start withering.

He's very used to skeptics, he's encountered enough of them in his life, and he answers with an easy shrug.]

Well, yes. They ought to believe in it, they're right, but of course seeing is believing. Once I get my supplies, I'll see what I can do about that part for you.

I'm from Mexico, cabron, it would probably be nice if you're implying it's very, very hot.

[Then again, he prefers to bake instead of freeze, not minding to sweat and have his clothes soaked to the skin with it, because that's how he's comfortable. Until here, he hadn't even known that temperature control could be a thing.]

I saw someone do tricks with illusions here. Is that what you do with your potions?

That's exactly what I'm implying, vaquero, and no, I don't do tricks with illusions.

[He snaps his fingers to conjure a ball of blue flame, rippling it back and forth over his knuckles and spinning it up to balance it on one finger.]

It's magic. My potions are my way of helping people who need a little something extra.

[It's not entirely different from the little bits of magic he's seen before, either from other people or the strange lights that had happened close to the Day of the Dead, but he also thinks it's better to not provoke someone who can do that with a hand.]

So, if I needed help, what kind of potion would you give me? Or does the person ask instead of you giving what you think they need?

Well, I'm not a mind reader. [And then he pauses, because that's not entirely accurate.] Well, I can be, but only under certain circumstances. That doesn't matter, the point is that yes, most of the time people ask me. Tell me what kind of help you might need, I'll tell you what I can do for you.

I don't actually think I need anything, unless you're also good at brewing alcohol on top of potions? If you are, then I wouldn't mind some decent tequila.

[The liquor they have here just isn't nearly as strong as what he's used to, unfortunately.]

What, there's no decent tequila to be found here?

[That's a blow. And certainly something he can do something about, he's already rolling up his sleeves.]

I'll see what I can do. What's your usual? Cuervo, Patron?

It hasn't tasted like it did back home.

[Which doesn't say much, because the stuff that he's used to drinking is, unfortunately, a little bit of the piss-poor stuff that's maybe not so good.]

I don't know, nothing is very labelled. It's whatever comes off the barkeep's shelf.

Oh? Not labeled.

[He pauses, considering. He'd been assuming this place doesn't have Vasquez's brands, but there's something else in play, Magnus thinks.]

Sorry, when did you say you were from?

[Does it matter? Vasquez feels like it shouldn't matter.]

1860s, sometime. I didn't exactly look at the year, lately.

[The dead man he was rooming with didn't exactly keep a calendar, after all, and it's not like Sam Chisolm offered it up, so who knows what year it had been?]

Aha. I remember that kind of tequila.

[There's a rather theatrical shudder. He hadn't cared much for the western United States until it had been settled, but he'd been there all the same.]

...if that's what you really want, I think I can manage.

Wait, really? If that's the case, then maybe I can pay you whatever price you ask.

[ He's still trying to get over his shock, but the truth is that he's been missing it, as strange and terrible as that might sound. ]

Well, it offends my sensibilities, but business is business, after all.

[He's already thinking about it, trying to decide if it will be easier to begin with a bottle of alcohol and change it, or if he ought to start from scratch, trying to remember the exact throat-searing flavor of raw tequila from a century and a half ago.]

Payment for something like that...well, if it works, I'll be doing you a favor. Asking for one in return seems like an even exchange.

[Vasquez is suddenly more pleased than he thought he could be, eyes wide with delight as he thinks about getting to share proper tequila with the people he's met, though he suspects their reactions won't be so eager.]

Favours? The last favour I did for someone gave me my life back, but almost took it away from me at the same time. What kind of favour do you mean?

Nothing that dramatic.

[He thinks for a few moments. Magnus's stock of favors is low right now, but he could use the help of someone familiar with the area.]

I would consider it a favor if you helped me find some of these pesky elusive ingredients. You seem like an outdoorsy type. Show me a few open fields and a forest or two, places I might be able to start replenishing my supplies, and I'd be more than happy to repay you with a bottle of your favorite label-free brewed-in-the-desert tequila.

[ This seems suspiciously easy, but maybe that's just because for Vasquez, that's an idea that he doesn't mind so much because it seems pleasant. ]

What kind of elusive ingredients are we talking about?

[ It is always good to make sure that he's not promising too much, so it's better to get an actual definition of the ingredients, but if it's just things in the wilderness, then he's more than happy to trade his time for tequila. ]

Well, hmm. This seems like a temperate area...

[Don't mind him, Vasquez, he's just going to turn away, muttering about climate zones and natural vegetation for a minute or so as he flips through a book.]

If this place has the same sort of plants that our world has, I could give you a list. Rowan, yew bark, dew-touched snowdrops, things like that. I've had to gather them myself for most of my life, but I have no idea where to begin. Can I buy you a coffee and we can discuss?

[Well, those aren't the things that he'd been worried about, because while he's not entirely used to some of these things that he's mentioning, it doesn't sound like anyone has to be hurt to get them and it would only take a little foraging.]

I think for a coffee, I can be persuaded to help in many ways, especially these things. If you want to discuss, I'm more than happy to. Maybe a drink, though, not coffee?

I'll never say no to a drink. [And really, he should have assumed a drink would be preferable in the first place. Meeting for coffee is something people born in the 20th century do, everyone else meets for a drink.

So far, Magnus has only heard about the Deviant, but that's a club and while it's exactly his type of scene, it isn't the right place for a friendly drink to discuss business.]

I'm sure you have a favorite watering hole here, I'd be delighted to see it. Shall we say tomorrow? Late afternoon?

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quinientos - 2017-12-26 22:48 (UTC) - Expand

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