8th Session
Before everyone else showed up, Alden asked me to review what it meant to have a Pillar of Sanity shatter, as one of Lillian's had done last session -- Art is the creation of beauty and meaning. He clearly mulled over what that implied and used it to make his character more damaged than I could have.
Chris couldn't make this session (the LIRR was well and truly FUBARed), and Vito was down to 1 Health, so we figured he found a wall, put his back to it, and prepared to lay down covering fire for his companions as needed. Kiril Konolovov was ready to give what help he could, having accepted Vito's offer and switched sides.
Martin, of course, kept singing. Joyce threw a flare into the middle of the room and saw that it was full of crates and the like.
Lillian kicked the flare ahead of them, figuring it wasn't as if whoever was down there didn't know they were coming. She danced, singing along with Marti. Folks found a pit, left a flare to mark it, and edged carefully around it.
Jonathan Brooks, pistol in hand, stood between them and a bedroom full of records, with a record player, a bed, landscape paintings, and a picture of Billie Holiday. Lillian curtsided down to the floor to give Joyce a clean shot as Brooks, Joyce took it and gunned Brooks down, far more adept that he was with firearms.
Inside the bedroom, Leticia de la Luz wailed as her lover died, disrupting Martin's countersong -- but also abandoning her own as she lunged for Joyce. I think everyone made their Stability rolls despite the awefulness of that wail.
Lillian stook, attempting to defend Joyce, but Leticia ignored the attack to get to Joyce. Mechanically, it made no difference, but Alden figured Leticia ducked, whereas I figured Leticia probably surprised Lillian by not ducking, and I think we figured that, dramatically, this meant that Lillian wound up hitting her with the hilt rather than the blade.
Leticia's teeth closed on Joyce, but did, I think, maybe 1 point of damage to Joyce, possibly none. Lillian counterattacked, and Alden rolled a 6, which meant, according to the martial arts rules we were using from the Martial Arts Zoom, that she could try to throw Leticia into something. This she did. Leticia hit the headboard of her own four-poster bed, dying. The group saw how deformed she was (before being fatally slammed), her mouth widened, and her nose fallen away to a vertical mouth that connected to the other one. Her sinuses had grown teeth. Her hair had fallen away.
Leticia's voice was silent, but the voice of La Boca continued. Interestingly, it did not have the effect that it had with Leticia's voice. The power had come from her, even if only because she was enhanced with the power of the Mouth. It was rather interesting, and I think I reminded Alden that Lillian's Drive was Thirst for Knowledge.
Lillian (to Martin): You know, you're sweet. But, I am going to find out is what's really making that noise. You stay here.
The Mouth of Mexico City was located in a the pit marked by the flare. I think it tried to get at them with its tongue, but couldn't. There was another, deeper pit, about six stories deep, on the other side of the main chamber, the one with all the boxes. There was a grill at the top of this pit and small mouths along the wall. Lillian removed the grate and tried to get at one of them, to stab it.
Alden spend no points and rolled a miss twice.
GM (after second miss): You could swear it moved about a foot, just before you stabbed.
Lillian: Right, time to stop playing around.
Translation: Alden spent points to guarantee a hit. The small mouth slackened, dripping Nectar into the pit and onto a corpse at the bottom, some unnamed soul who had beaten his head against the wall of the pit until he died, probably some time before, not that night, but an earlier, if still recent, time when de la Luz and La Boca sang their deadly duet.
However, a new mouth materialized a foot or two away from the dead one. Lillian locked the grate back on.
Joyce looked into some of the crates. The first one she opened had Nectar. She quickly fired on it, given Martin's addiction.
Lillian: Joyce, if it's Not Moving, we can wait before deciding whether to shoot it or not.
Folks now returned to the bedroom, with a light source. Lillian decided to use Leticia's corpse to teach an object lesson to Martin.
Lillian: Martin, darling, I like your face the way it is. And I don't want it to end up like this. No more Nectar, please?
I think Martin recoiled, swallowed, and nodded, but I'm not sure.
Joyce found out that Martin was the one who'd cut the power, making the lights go out, and yelled at him about that, as he might have drawn friendly fire.
Martin: It was't -you- I was worried about!
Joyce: I tend to shoot things!
Lillian: We've noticed.
Folks found that there was a dead, partially eaten, body on de la Luz's bed, the body of someone they knew, Gonsalvo del Toro, aka Gonchi, the private detective who'd agreed not only to give them information, but also to give Jonathan Brooks misinformation about them. Clearly, the person doing the eating was Leticia.
Lillian: Kali Ma --
Joyce: Come on, Marty!
Folks considered the situation.
Lillian: We need gasoline.
Martin: We can siphon it out of the cars.
Lillian: We need a -lot- more gasoline.
Martin: Records burn.
Lillian: (Something about the highly toxic nature of the fumes that you get when you burn vinyl.)
This led to a brief digression about just what records would have been made of in 1937, particularly 78s. Were they ceramic at that point? We weren't able to resolve this one quickly, so we moved on.
After all, there was dynamite, wooden crates, and records. And Joyce was full of advice and a line she would repeat often.
Joyce: ... Which I happen to know from purely academic research.
Someone: Sugar burns.
Martin: Won't it work if we blow up the mouth? There isn't anything there terribly dangerous. There's -beds-.
So, folks set things up with gasoline and dynamite and an electical detonator. This last confused me until folks explained we were talking about the T-shaped plunger thingy I remembered from cartoos. Then, it all made sense.
Folkd did a final search of everything, including the blue and yellow house above them.
GM: There's ammo. Lots.
Joyce: I give it to the comrades.
That made sense. Trotsky's bodyguards had given them safe haven and asked no questios while they first interrogated and then killed a prisoner. They were quite happy to have the ammo as repaymet.
Joyce: Give my regards to Lev Davidovich.
(Kiril Konolovov made himself scarce before they showed up.)
So, just as in Los Angeles, the mouth was soaked in gasoline so that it would burn, and the whole building in which it was located was blown up, burying it under the rubble. As far as folks can tell, without actually trying to dig everything up, this tactic works.
Joyce (after the explosion): We done here? We flying to the Yucatan now or taking the night off?
Folks agreed that they were taking the night off. Joyce told them to be at the hangar by 6am the next morning.
Lillian got Vito to the hospital and sat by his bedside in lotus position, with her kukri resting on her knees. Lillian did sleep, though probably not deeply, and it's entirely possible Vito woke and saw her, falling back asleep before she woke enough to notice.
Chris (on hearing about this): And dammit Aldren, don't make Vito fall in love with Lillian. No, not like that, you knucklehead ;)
Joyce went to down in a bottle or several.
Joyce: Otro vez! Set them up.
Her co-pilot Fred found her there.
Fred: Message from the boss.
He showed her a telegram from Janet Winston Rogers saying that she needed to talk to everyone in Los Angeles and that there might have to be a Joy Grove visit.
Janet Winston-Roger's Telegram to Mexico City
Joyce wrote a reply which she gave Fred to send and told him that she was his boss, not Janet, and not to forget it, and that they were going to the Yucatan. Fred agreed and went to calibrate the fuel for the Yucatan trip. He did not send the telegram to Janet Winston-Rogers, possibly because of Joyce's comment about it being impossible to make "pointless meeting".
Joyce's Response to the Mexico City Telegram, Undelivered
And Martin?
Betsy: Martin's self destructive. Is Samuel still in town?
GM: Absolutely. He knows Martin didn't mean what he said.
Martin found Samuel, and they had sex. And then, Martin broke up with him, to Samuel's utter astonishment and disbelief.
Betsy: I'm willing to take a Stability hit for this. I think Martin's losing Samuel as a Source of Stability.
I figured that this counted as Letting a Source Go. Betsy asked if she could turn Darla and Isabella from one source into two. I vetoed this for a few reasons.
1. They're pretty much a pair as envisioned, and splitting them's a bit cheesy. 2. Martin's already got two slots filled with family members -- one brother in one and two sisters in another. There should be some variety, I thought. 3. Keeping them as a pair means that if Josh decides to play Darla as a PC, even part of the time, Darla can be detached without messig with Martin's Sources of Stability so long as Isabella's in the same slot. 4. I also had a thoroughly twisted idea that was just so wrong we agreed we had to do it: Replace Samuel Jenner with Samson Trammel.
Martin decided to go to the hotel where Joyce and Lillian were staying, rather than back to the rehab place where he really had no reason to stay any more. And, as I noted, with both Joyce and Lillian out, it wasn't as if he couldn't use a bed to get some sleep.
Elena Alcatruz found Joyce, still thiking Joyce was a man named Josh Winters. Joyce brushed her off, and Elena did not try to change her mind. She went to the hotel where Joyce and Lillian were staying and left Lillian a note telling her where Josh was. I forget whether she mentioned that the Mexico City police were looking for the group to ask folks a few questions about the shooting incident at the party earlier that evening, which probably seemed much further away in time.
Martin was ready to head for the airfield by the Lillian returned to the hotel. Lillian got Elena's note, and she and Martin went to the bar where Joyce was drinking.
I think Joyce started congratulating Lillian on killing people and the like -- I'm not sure, but I do remember that Joyce was fairly vicious. When I asked if anyone remembered, Cat elaborated:
-- -- --
Lillian cut Joyce off before her drunken rant could be completed. But basically Joyce was mocking Lillian for wanting to be hard, because she could see what it cost her--in Joyce's mind, her instinct ("Get Lillian out of here!") was right, because Lillian ended up getting deeply hurt by staying.
The subtext was also this: Joyce fears Lillian becoming like her, because she can see this as a possibility. One that she can't stand, given the amount of self-loathing Joyce has.
-- -- --
Lillian: Joyce, you are drunk as hell. Shut up before you say something I will make you regret.
Joyce: There is nothing you can say to make me regret anything.
Martin: Stop. Both of you. Just stop.
Joyce: I have burned out my regrets ten years ago.
Lillian: Martin, shall I be patient?
Martin: Yes.
Lillian: All right. I'm being patient. (Martin puts an arm around her.) Not helping. (Martin removes his arm from her shoulders.)
Joyce continued her verbal onslaught.
Martin: Joyce. Stop baiting her. (puts his hand over her mouth)
Joyce: That's good, Martin. Good form. Try keeping your weight forward.
Betsy played Martin with more determination than usual, down to physically intervening, which isn't something he usually does. Joyce evetually relented enough to update her companions.
Joyce: Crazy lady sent us a telegram.
Lillian: I did not.
Joyce explained about Janet's telegram and that they were going back to Los Angeles. Joyce and Martin went to the hangar, it now being at least 7am, so clearly, no one was taking off at 6am. She told Fred that they were going to Los Anngeles. He sighed, but had already worked the figures for that.
Lillian paid her aunt a quick visit, sobbing on her shoulder. Her aunt asked whether Lillian wanted to speak to the police or wanted very much not to speak to them, and Lillian voted for the latter.
Martin was starting to get concerned about where Lillian was, so he took a cab to her aunt's place to see if she was there. Lillian was just heading out and got into the cab with him. Lillian's aunt bid them both farewell, and may have said that at least one, if not both, of them might want to spend some time in rehab or some other quiet place to recover from whatever they had been up to.
I forget what Joyce said when they arrived, but I remember this bit:
Lillian: No, I spent all of last night watching over Vito while you were crawling into a bottle.
Joyce: Thanks.
Joyce pondered which of two mobs she should contact to keep an eye on the recovering Vito, and decided that he'd prefer the Italian mafia, so she sent some mutual acquaintances a telegram.
Lillian worried about birds attacking, but, while there were indeed birds in the hangar, and some of them watched the plane intently, or so it seemed, none of them attacked, and the plane took off without incident.
Then, Lillian noticed a spider dropping down. Having the Biology skill, she recognized the (fictional) White Hermit, an extremely venemous species, but one that couldn't deliver enough of a bite to threaten a human. However, this particular White Hermit had a deformed mouth that could certainly pierce human skin!
Lillian flattened it, but not before it bit her. She looked for more, and saw them, then called a warning to Martin to cover his head and not look. Turns out Martin's as big an arachnaphobe as I am.
Martin (covering his head and curling up as tightly as he can): Ah! Spiders!
At this point, I discovered something Cat took for granted as obvious: A pilot -always- does a walkthtough of the plane before takeoff. She'd figured Joyce had done this after sobering up.
If I'd realized this, I would have done things differently. I'd worked out very carefully how the spiders could have been planted; a walkthough wouldn't have wrecked anything. Joyce would have discovered the empty envelope and been attacked on the ground instead of in the air.
Cat later elaborated via email:
-- -- --
So, a clarification on pre-flight routines: normally the mechanics will do all proper maintenance, handle refueling and adding of necessary fluids (aircraft engines burn an obscene amount of motor oil), etc. Joyce is currently acting as her own mechanic, so she and whatever airport ground crew she rates will handle this. (Probably for the best, as Joyce would keep meticulous maintenance records.) Before take-off--and this is still done, even though for modern aircraft it's not particularly useful--the pilot will do an exterior examination of the aircraft, the "walkaround". Given that Joyce has transformed a fair amount of the interior cabin space into auxiliary fuel tanks, she would also do a cabin walkthrough as well. It can be assumed that unless really pressed for time she does these things before any flight.
There are also checklists for takeoff, landing, and various emergency conditions, which are followed & filled out even when there's no legal authority collecting them, because death happens sometimes when you don't :-)
After all, she learned to fly on kites with internal combustion engines, so she takes this stuff seriously :-)
-- -- --
This makes me wonder how viable the various bits of (purely optional) sabotage suggested in the text actually are. Then again, I'm sure some groups, whether or not they have a pilot, leave all of the details of maintenance to Janet Winsto-Rogers's pilot, Frank Kearns. Joyce is using her own plane, flying it herself, and taking along her own co-pilot, so things play out differently.
Regardless, Joyce grabbed some kind of bug killer and told Fred to take over the flying, iirc.
Joyce: Here!
We thought she handed over a DDT pump, but we later learned that DDT hadn't yet been invented. Still, there was no doubt some hideous chemical bug spray available. And she made a Preparedness Spend to have an anti-venom kit and rolled very well. This was good, Lillian had been bitten again, and Martin had been bitten by now as well.
There was a thump from the cockpit as Fred smashed a spider. Neither he nor Joyce got bitten.
Joyce (injecting Lillian with anti-venom): It'll burn. A little. And then it'll burn. A lot.
Someone, likely Martin, asked just what she'd been spraying into the air.
Joyce: Well, don't have children.
Martin: We're sterile.
Joyce (I think): No, you're -not- sterile. They'll just be monsters.
There may have been a hospital visit on landing, but the anti-venom ensured that folks would survive in any case. (I didn't have any stats for anti-venom, and I handwaved details, as the main thing was that the problem had been dealt with.)
The group went back to the house they shared with Ida Lupino and Lucille Ball. They met with Janet and her half-sister and bodyguard, Elaine. Janet had the latest letter from Douglas Henslowe, praising Joyce and Lillian as angels, and another letter from Dr. Keaton to Janet, expressing grave concern about Joyce, no doubt well-meaning, contributing to Henslowe's delusions.
Joyce (reading Dr. Keaton's letter): We need to go to Joy Grove. I need to put a bullet in this guy's head.
This startled Janet, although she was well aware that the doctor's letter was a sort of veiled threat / attempt to get her to give him more money if he wanted her to let Joyce continue to let Henslowe believe that Walter Winston was still alive.
Joyce: I'm not murderous. I just talk a good game.
Dr. Keaton cited the Hippocratic Oath, quoting, "Above All, Do No Harm."
Martin: That's not in the Hippocratic Oath.
GM: What?
Yep, a certain GM (hello!) was aware that she really ought to check that line, but decided not to bother.
Martin: That's apocraphal.
Joyce: He's no Jung. Now -there's- a psychiatrist.
It's easy to forget sometimes, but Martin was recuited by Joyce as Book Guy. It was utterly appropriate for him to expose Dr. Keaton's sloppiness. All in all, I couldn't have planned Keaton's mistake, so I'm glad it happened naturally.
Folks discussed what to do about Henslowe and Job and Keaton. I think Lillian was for getting the patients away from Dr. Keaton, while Joyce thought having them stay put made more sense. Lillian asked how long Joyce had spent being crazy. I think Joyce said she had spent about three months doing that.
[As always, please do correct me if that's wrong.]
Lillian: That puts you 23 years and 6 months behind me. So shut up!
More discussion followed.
Joyce (I think): I don't really know what to do with a man named Dr. Keaton.
Folks finally settled on an interesting plan: Janet Winston-Rogers was willing to throw money at the problem in any way they deemed fit -- bribing Dr. Keaton, er, donating more money to Joy Grove, attacking him in court, whatever. They decided to set up a foundation to hire Dr. Keaton away from Joy Grove. He would, of course, bring his star patients, Douglas Henslowe and Edgar Job. And the investigators could set things up to supervise Keaton and to make sure that anyone infiltrating would be spotted. I forget whether it was this session or the following where Alden got the idea of putting former PC Dr. Cecil Walker in charge of this. Regardless, we liked this.
The only issue I could see was getting Mrs. Henslowe to agree to have Douglas taken further away from her, and folks figured that could be Dr. Keaton's problem, although they could also put it to her that this would remove a financial burden, and maybe the Foundation has a stipend / award for families of patients in the Very Special Study.
I forget what prompted this exchange.
Martin: You're not Southern.
Joyce: What? I'm from Tennessee!
Martin: You're Mid-Western.
Alden / Lillian noted that they had left an enemy behind in Mexico City, citing the spiders. I explained the situation, as I had spent a lot of time working out the details.
I'd wanted to include the White Hermits, but I wanted to make sure it made sense. I could have pulled it off in Los Angeles, maybe, but Vito had arranged for mob protection on the plane, so the window of opportunity was very small. But, in Mexico City, the plane had been unguarded.
When Jonathan Brooks's birds attacked, Brooks was able to see through their eyes. At least one of the surviving birds followed the characters back to the hotel. One of Brooks's cultists visited and bribed the desk clerk or otherwise found some way of finding out who the characters were. He delivered the White Hermits (or possibly a bird did) and then returned to Jonathan Brooks and was later killed by the PCs.
Gonchi, keeping his promise, tried to mislead Jonathan Brooks, telling him that Samson Trammel and Captain Walker had sent someone matching Jack Pizner's description. Unfortunately for him, by then, Brooks knew who was in town and knew that Gonchi was lying to him. de la Luz killed him and started consuming him.
Alden: Thank you. That's good to know. But... would we have any way of knowing this in character?
Me (thinking): ... Yes! Kiril Konolovov could explain it all.
He was planning to check himself into the clinic Lillian had funded in Los Angeles for Nectar addicts. The PCs actually did a fair amount of good in Mexico City, saving the four musicians and Victor Cortez, as well as Kiril Konolovov. But, as I had hoped, they did feel sad that they hadn't been able to save Gonchi as well.
Meanwhile, Martin had written Samson Trammel a letter some time ago, on a series of postcards, because Trammel had asked for postcards. However, Martin sent it only when the group left Mexico.
Martin's Postcards to Samson Trammel, sent from Mexico City (This was written around the 6th session or so.)
Trammel, meanwhile, wrote a letter to Martin.
Samson Trammel's Letter to Martin
Joyce: If you're going to talk to Trammel, you need one of these.
Martin: Joyce, I don't smoke. They taste disgusting. Give me something to drink.
I forget the context of this:
Joyce (about Carl Jung): Best inside-straight man I ever played against.
Martin: He was drawing from the bottom of the deck.
Trammel was reading Martin's letter when Martin arrived. They talked about Mexico City, as Trammel was very curious about what happened, and had no particular affection for Brooks, who'd thoroughly screwed up the job Trammel had given him, i.e., turning Mexico City into a major hub for Nectar. They discussed the question of exactly who the cultists worshipped, Trammel still being convinced that it was Nyarlathotep, and that his god spoke to him inside his head.
Trammel (fully aware of how absurd it is): If I can't trust the voices in my head, who -can- I trust?
He and Martin laughed about that, and Martin said that Trammel was acting as if Martin was trying to prove Trammel was wrong, and Martin wasn't trying to prove anything. Trammel said that he didn't think Martin was trying to convice him of anything, but Martin had actually been to Mexico City.
Martin was feeling oddly guilty, as Trammle had said in his letter, correctly, that Martin and his companions were going around killing the people with whom Trammel had the closest tiest. Martin had never thought of it that way.
Trammel had previously mentioned an artist who painted with Nectar, and Martin's letter had asked for details about that, some of which Trammel had supplied in his own letter, holding out the promise of telling Martin the artist's name when Martin visited in person.
Martin: That artist -- Don't tell me his name, because you're right. My friends probably would kill him.
I think they talked about how Martin's friends were going to go somewhere to kill more people Trammel knew. Trammel was interested in the news about the Yucatan and claimed to hope they'd go there first, as the cultists in the Yucata worked for Jonathan Brooks, and Trammel had no desire to save anyone from Brooks's part of the cult. Also, he did want to know what everyone would find in the Yucatan. Martin was carefully non-commital about whether he would or wouldn't try to steer things to the Yucatan.
They also talked about Nectar, predictably, and about whether Martin had enough and whether he was using any. Martin said that he wanted to be level headed.
Trammel: If you'd been any more level headed at my party, I would have had you shot. You know that, right?
Martin: (shaken) I do now.
Trammel pointed out that going in a Nectar addled state to visit dangerous people might lead to being underestimated. After all, it's not like he would have let any of the others get that close to him. And, in any case, Martin would probably be better off not being in desperate need for it when he went off to Bangkok or Malta or the Yucatan. Martin agreed that Trammel might have a point, but said that he wouldn't take any just yet.
Martin: Are you -- I won't try to stop it if you are -- are you gettig Nectar in here?
Trammel: Do you really want to know?
Martin (after some thought): Yes.
GM: He leans over and kisses you deeply. You can taste the Nectar on his tongue.
Martin barely managed to recoil and cover his mouth in horror, rather than try to get a high from the Nectar.
Martin: F*ck!
It was clear to us at this point, and I confirmed it later by note, that Martin would wind up going to the Nectar drop and partaking. Betsy and I seem to have three possibilities for the Nectar Stability roll: Pass, Fail, and Resist Now But Partake Later. That last may or may not involve a roll -- it's been done both ways.
Trammel said that he'd made inquiries about Jeremiah, but there really was no Nectar trade on the East Coast. Martin filled him in on the details, now that Martin himself knew them. Jeremiah had been killed, perhaps accidentally, by people from the Bangkok group who needed an expert in Siamese antiquities. Jeremiah was one of the few (at least, in his local areas), and the murder was likely to have been a botched kidnapping attempt.
Trammel (getting an idea): Don't say anything for a minute. I've had visitors from Bangkok. They're looking for my book, the one I wrote, and for my library. I couldn't help them, because I have _no idea_ where they are -- and you're not going to tell me.
Martin nodded, his hands over his own mouth.
Trammel: Now either kiss me or get the hell out of here!
Martin (stumbling out): Sh*t! F*ck!
Joyce spent some quality time renewing her fling with Ida, some of it just sitting with Ida and playing guitar.
Me: Does Lillian want to let Richard know she's in town?
Alden: Yes. She asks him to take her out dancing.
Me: He is absolutely willing to do that.
Alden: And things go very badly.
Me: How do they go very badly?
Lillian, while not the world's best dancer or even in the top several hundred, was nevertheless uncharacteristcally awkward on the dance floor. She spent almost all her time apologizing for being too clumsy. Eventually, she asked Richard to take her back home, i.e., where she was staying with her friends and the actresses. Richard did, turning to her once the car stopped.
Richard: Look, whatever happened in Mexico City stays in Mexico City. I understand!
Lillian: Oh, you're so sweet! You're too sweet! I'm so sorry! (runs off to the house she's staying in)
She found Joyce outside, sans Ida, but playing on her guitar.
Joyce: Lillian, I owe you an apology for what I said the other night. And before you ask, yes--I always remember everything I do when I get drunk.
(Cat, after: That kind of scared me--I hadn't realized until then that Joyce can't drink to forget anymore...
Another thing Cat realized in the following session: Joyce has been burned out for a long time, but she is starting to feel again. This isn't necessarily ideal.)
Lillian: Oh?
Joyce: Drink?
Lillian takes a giant slug of it.
Joyce: Whoa whoa whoa! Slow down! It ain't that bad! (pause) I said a few things to you that I regret.
Seeing an elephant was not that bad -- it was the other things. I don't want you to be like me, Lillian. I don't want that for anyone.
Lillian: Play something with a bit more rhythm -- a bit more danceable.
Joyce: I can play one of those songs Fred wrote. (or was it "Fred likes"?)
Lillian: Play something I can dance to.
Joyce: Something waltz-like?
Lillian: I can do that.
Joyce: Here's something I wrote.
She played "The Tennessee Waltz". Should she live long enough, Joyce will be very annoyed when someone else steals it and claims it as his or her own.
Lillian put down her kukri and did her katas to the music and did them very well. She practiced with a heavy bag that was hanging from a tree branch near the back porch, using another tree branch as a weapon, this one of about the same size and weight as her kukri.
Lucille Ball (watching from an upstairs window): I did't realize she was a stuntwoman.
Joyce sang:
She comes dancing, through the darkness To the Tennessee waltz And I feel like I'm falling apart And it's stronger than drink And it's deeper than sorrow This darkness she left in my heart
Lillian stabbed the branch through the thick canvas of the heavy bag, right about where the heart would be on a person.
Joyce sang:
I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz Now I know just how much I have lost
Lillian left the branch where it was, turned away from the tree, and tried a simple dance step, but stumbled. She stopped, looking lost.
Joyce (putting down guitar and offering herself as a dance partner): Come on.
Lillian: No, I can't. I can only dance whe I'm trying to kill something now.
Joyce (horror survivalist): I understand.
Lillian (reclaiming her kukri and looking at it, sadly): This is the only dance partner I'll ever have from now on.
(Have I mentioned how awesome my players are? I have awesome players. Alden came up with this from listening to my fumbling explanation of what a shattered pillar of sanity meant. And those really are the words of the song that Cat just happened to decide was really written by Joyce.)
Joyce: I understand. Before Africa, I was a different person. Before the nut hatch, I was a different person.
She told a tale of being there, not as a patient, but as a guard, a portal opening, four kids and a nurse, and shooting three kids and the nurse. She regretted doing that, but she regretted more the one she missed -- the onw who walked through the portal.
Joyce: That's a hell of a thing. A hell of a thing.
Joyce: I didn't really lose a game of poker to Carl Junt. It was pinnocle.
Lillian: Joyce, I know you won that game.
Joyce: Not that one. But, there's a hospital ward named after me.
Lillian: I'm sure it won't be the last one.
They moved on to other topics, or at least tried to.
Lillian: What did you do for fun before this?
Joyce: Oh, I wasn't nobody before this.
Unsurprisingly, the conversation turned to flying.
Joyce: G-d damn Lindberg! That man had more need of a blow job tha any white man.
Lillian: You still like to fly.
Joyce: A little.
Lillian: You still love to fly.
Joyce: It's all I have left.
Then, things shifted back to darker topics.
Joyce: I learned one important thing. Shoot the wizard first. Then shoot him again, before he gets back up.
Lillian: Are we talking about the KKK?
Joyce: Funny story about that --
Lillian: Martin! Get down here! We're having fun without you, and that doesn't seem right!
Around here, we realized that Martin has a weird pattern of lovers whose names begin in "Sam" and who aren't good for him. There've been Samson, Samuel, and Samantha.
LIllian had other matters on her mind.
Lillian: No one in this house will f*ck me.
Martin: I'm sorry. If I were straight, I'd have you honorably.
Lillian: You wouldn't, either. You'd lie to my parents and make me pregnant and leave me, and I'd have the baby anyway, cuz I adore you, but that's how it would happen.
Joyce: She has a point. If you were straight, that's how it would be -- you'd have made a dozen bastards. I like you better not straight.
Joyce got ahold of some pot.
Lillian: Is that tobacco?
Joyce: I do not know, sir.
Things started to mellow out.
Joyce: Martin, do you play an instrument?
Martin: Barely.
Joyce: Which one?
Martin: Piano.
Lillian: I could never sit still for piano lessons. As soon as an instrument started playing, I'd hop up and start dancing.
Joyce: Better days, Lillian. Better days.
Lillian: Did Jeremiah play an instrument?
Martin: He tried many -- badly.
Lillian: That sounds adorable.
Martin: It was. He was like that with languages, too.
Joyce: It was adorable.
Martin: He sold antiques becasue he told me his mom came from Turkey and ended up in Chinatown (***illeg -- lived? died? something utterly different?) real quick he ended up learing a whole bunch of languages. He bought antiques off the boat.
Joyce: He didn't know it that well. I had to teach him all the curse words.
Martin: I'm sorry. All I talk about is Jeremiah.
Joyce: He was adorable. And he had a good funeral.
At this point, I asked about that, as there were some details I wanted to make sure didn't get contradicted, and we all realized that a) Jeremiah's family hadn't let Martin attend the funeral and b) Joyce had gone for Martin, as the family had no reason to object to her doing going.
Joyce: Oh, I'm sorry Marty! I didn't think.
The topic turned to Joyce's father.
Martin or Lillian (anyone remember which one?): How'd he die?
Joyce: Revenue agents.
Martin: Rich people don't die like that.
Joyce: They don't.
Lillian: Rich people die by falling off a horse.
This led to a discussion of horses and riding, with Martin saying that he knew how to ride. While this was more innuendo, he actually does know how to ride, This means that everyone except for Vito has at least one point in Riding.
Lillian: If the world had any sense, -men- would ride side saddle.
Martin: Yeah. I never thought of it that way before.
Joyce: The world doesn't make any sense.
Lillian: Let's go horseback riding!
Me: It's night time.
Joyce: The hills over there? They have people with horse farms.
Lillian was all for borrowing, renting, or stealing horses. She stood up. And, she passed out.
Joyce: Aw hell. (hands Martin five dollars) I thought she'd hold out longer than that.
Martin: I did not make a bet with you, but I'm happy to take your money.
Joyce: Aw hell.
Joyce carried Lillian to her room and tucked her in.
Joyce: Night, little girl.
Lillian: <snore>
Joyce: That's what I like about her. She's always a lady.
Martin stood in the doorway as the worried surrogate father to Joyce's surrogate mother.
Someone: How'd -that- happen?
Joyce and Martin decided that drinking was a better idea than stealing horses.
Joyce: Think Lillian'll be safe here? Cuz I know a couple of bars.
Martin: They're not still selling Nectar?
Joyce: I don't think so.
Martin: Laudanum?
Joyce: Martin!
Martin: Buggery?
Joyce: I believe it's called sodomy for me, but yes.
Martin: Let's get some buggery!
Joyce: I don't like mechanical interference.
