Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (61% full).

*Ring, ring! It's the phone!*

Natalie answers, not sounding like she's just woken up, nor with a hangover or anything. Her environment is quiet, giving no hints to her location. "--Hello?"

It's a by-now-familiar computerized voice. "Happy New Year, Ms. Baker. I hope things are going well for you and yours?"

Natalie blows out a breath, half-relieved, half-frustrated. "David," she says, sounding resigned. "Fair enough. Yourself? --And before you can start chewing my ass, I know."

"Ha ha ha." The laugh is little more than text read by a computer with totally incorrect inflection and intonation. It's eerie and alien sounding. Unnatural to say the least. "A little hung over, but I'll live. So you're aware of the recent large purchase of silver bullets that routed through a gunshop recently? I'm certainly concerned about that, but I suspect nowhere near as concerned as you ought to be.

Natalie mutters - to herself, but making no effort to hide it from the receiver, "Damn, that's just wrong." Then back at normal volume, "--A what? Damn. How many, do you know? We figured they had some, but... damn."

"I don't have figures, but it was a bulk order. Unusually large. I think it is quite safe to assume at this point that some group--or groups--of people knows what you are, is currently very unhappy with you, and is now a very dire threat."

"Aw, crap. Well..." There's a second's pause, before she continues, "Knowing's half the battle. Thanks, David. With a little luck these creeps won't be much of a problem longer." Another hesitation. "--I don't suppose you could... do anything to help? We know where the bastard's holed up."

"I'm a little behind on current events in that area. My attentions have been directed elsewhere the latter portion of December. Could you fill me in on the details so I'm not wasting my time or resources if I can do something to assist?"

Natalie's answer is to click her tongue thoughtfully. "--Is this a secure line? Would you risk your life on it?"

"Trust me, nothing is secure. And I'm at a payphone in another town. Can you dance around the words?"

"Sweetheart," Nat replies, "I can tango with the best of them. But if you want the real dish of what the hell, I'd rather it weren't in half-truths and generalities, hmm?"

"--Actually," she adds, before the voice can cut in, "that little trick you pulled at my last houseparty. Can you repeat that? Their house probably isn't as wired as ours is, but even if you could get them outside..."

"That's not particularly easy to accomplish." There's a longer-than-usual pause. "Why don't you write down on a piece of paper what you know about them, their location, and what your current plans and capabilities are. Leave it on, say, on the dining room table of your new house, with each page spread out and not stacked. And I'll get back with you, say, tomorrow."

Natalie says, "That's just freaky as hell. What, do you get your jollies from watching people in the bathroom, too? ...Never mind. I'm sorry. Cripes, um... hmm. I can give you what we know and suspect about them, and what happened last time we had a personality clash, but I can't go into too many details about us. Secret handshake, you know."

"With great power comes great responsibility. You can learn a lot from Spiderman." And the computer voice makes it impossible to tell if the person on the other end is being serious or not. "As much as is possible without the secret handshake."

"Spidey never said anything about ethics, though," the Galliard retorts. A quiet sigh follows. "--Right. It's... cripes. It's noon now. The papers will be on the kitchen floor between eight and eleven tomorrow morning. That gonna be enough time for you?"

"I'll let you know if it isn't. And could you please use a computer to print the documents?"

Nat echoes dubiously, "--A computer. Why? Can't read my handwriting?"

"I've never seen it, yet. If your handwriting is legible, feel free."

"Never had any complaints. Right. --No more requests?" she asks lightly. "Pink paper? Lavender scented? I have to use silver sparkly ink? Little hearts over my i's?'.

"Just a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. And, obviously, no funny business."

Natalie barely muffles a snicker. "You're about a week too late, Santa. All ideas before... eight that night. That gonna be enough time?"

"Ow. Rush job. You're going to have to turn your homework in by 9pm tonight."

Natalie clicks her tongue again. "Damn straight it's a rush job. All right, if I can get it to you by nine tonight, can you give me your call by six tomorrow night? This'd be a damn sight easier to arrange if you weren't so damn paranoid, you know. Other people probably aren't going to be too happy I'm even involving you. But. I'm willing to stick my neck out, because I think you can help."

"I'll try and call before 6 the next morning. I need time to work if I'm going to be of any assistance." A brief pause. "If anyone bitches about me, just tell them that I'd be more than happy to not alert them of any future major shipments of silver bullets to their enemies in the future. It's certainly no skin off my back, and I do have other things to do besides helping to clean up other people's big, messy blunders."

"Sure," Nat snaps. "You're just perfect. Make your decision, David - in, or out. If you're in, you've already gotten your quota in of no no bad dog. If you're out..." She trails off, then inhales a long breath, exhales it as slowly. When she speaks again, her voice is carefully controlled. "I think we already had this conversation."

There's a pause before the response. "Oh, were you involved in this thing earlier?"

Natalie hesitates before asking, confused, "Which thing earlier?"

"The disputes leading up to the current situation. I was under the impression that you weren't involved earlier."

Natalie ahs carefully. "See, that's what happens when I'm trying to tango and you're doing the twist."

"Toes get stepped on from time to time when you're new at dancing. I'm not rolling up a paper and saying bad dog at you. I'm just stating that the situation is currently a mess and looks, at least to me, as if it's pushing the line of getting out of control. I've already heard people--regular people--using the "W" word in discussing the situation. Jokingly right now, but obviously this entire situation is on the verge of going public. And neither I nor you want that to happen. The Inquisition was a rather unpleasant piece of history that I'd rather not see repeated. And to that end, I am willing to assist you in that matter. I would sincerely hope that if the tables were turned that you would do likewise."

Natalie's quiet for nearly ten seconds after he finishes, with only a quiet, "Damn," when the voice mentions the 'W' word. "--I gotta go," she says abruptly. "If you've got more to tell me, call in a couple hours." *click*

[End of log]