sixwordstories | (no subject)

What exactly am I signing for? I don't recall anything being scheduled to arrive...

"Tell you the truth, I'm not sure." He fished the package out of the messenger bag at his hip, "Padded envelope, old-school international delivery, they don't make this kind anymore, we checked." A one-shouldered shrug, "They've got more environmentally friendly options now, this kind has basically shredded upholstery as a filling."

He checked the address on the envelope against the address on the delivery slip, "You are a J. Watson, right? And this is your address? Because I have to tell you, this thing is kind of a mystery, been on the dated delivery shelf at least since we moved into the new building, for delivery today, no earlier."

James is suddenly looking at the package like it's a live bomb at the young man's words. "And... how long would that be, exactly?"

That was a look he was familiar with, and he readily tucked the envelope back into the bag, "Been in the new building just over three years. All we know is that there's nothing liquid or potentially hazardous or it wouldn't have sat at all. My guess, going by size and weight, some kind of book."

An easy shrug, "But if you want to refuse it, that's fine, we'll get somebody to check the back records and get it returned to the original sender."

"You've been over it with electronic sniffers? Ruled out biological and chemical agents? Radiation?"

He knew it was a rather suspicious way to react to an unexpected package, but this was not his first rodeo, as the saying went. One could not be too careful. And, depending on the contents of the package, the poor deliver man might end up with his own share of troubles even if James proved safe.

"All of the above. Part of why Zodiac has the reputation we have is because we're at least twelve kinds of thorough and the same goes for careful."

Granted, depending on who was being asked, they were also occasionally reckless and potentially unstable, but they weren't just a courier service, either.

"I may well regret this, but where do I sign?"

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that." He replied, flipping the clipboard in his hand back around, "On the highlighted line, signature and date, please."

James nodded, quickly signing and dating in a script that was closer to calligraphy than modern cursive.

"Will you step inside? I may have a return message once I've examined the contents of the package. I'll make you a cup of tea while you wait..."

He was fairly used to that as well, and just nodded once, tugging off the carbon copy of the sheet and handing it over along with the envelope itself, "Sure thing. You have something to pack it in, I can label it, we can do a card payment or send you an invoice, whichever you're more comfortable with."

"I prefer to transact in cash, if it's all the same to you," he answered, gingerly accepting the envelope and heading inside the small apartment.

It had been a Sanctuary safe-house for decades now, easy enough to find for anyone even passingly familiar with them or their work. He was only there today because he had just finished an assignment for Helen in the neighborhood and needed a brief rest afterwards. The coincidental timing of that alone had him nervous, although he suspected that whoever had sent the package would have had a backup plan in place had there been no one to accept the package.

"Do come in. Make yourself at home and I'll pour you a cup of tea..."

"Sure, frowned on, but still accepted." He replied even as he stepped inside. He was at ease, but still watchful, he wasn't getting any sort of red flags but that didn't mean he wasn't going to use some common sense.

Granted, anyone who worked with him would say he didn't have the common sense God gave a chipmunk, let alone a normal person, not that that had stopped him before.

James was harmless, at least when he chose to be, and this was one of those occasions. He wasn't getting any threatening or deceptive signals off the other man and, while weary, he had tentatively classified him as 'not an immediate threat'.

Placing the envelope on the coffee table, he gestured for the young man to take a seat, heading into the kitchen. "How do you take your tea, Mister... I don't believe I caught your name?"

He dropped down easily to sit, swinging his bag around behind him, "Yi, Harry Yi, you can call me rabbit though, most people do, and uh, just sugar, or honey if that's an option. Cream if it's red or black, none if it's white or green."

He laughed then, shaking his head, "And that came out way more opinionated than I meant for it to."

"Not at all, Harry Yi. If you want an opinionated discussion of tea, ask my partner. She'll chew your ear off on the subject." Mixing the tea, he added, "It's black, so honey and cream it shall be. Do you like it very sweet, or just a bit?"

(ooc: I have to run for the night now. I'll tag back as often as I can tomorrow during the day, and then more often tomorrow night :) it's been a fun thread so far. looking forward to seeing where it'll go)

"Just a bit, thanks, and that's where I get it from, teammates with really strong opinions on beverages."

Another little smile, "Not all of them, but just enough to keep things interesting."

[Coolcool, I'll be out until evening myself tomorrow, and same the rest of the week because of work, but I'm definitely up for continuing whenever.]

James adds just a smidgen of honey, then a fair measure of cream to Harry's tea, sweetening his own more generously and leaving the cream out altogether.

"Here we are," he announces, bringing the tea out and eyeing the envelope on the table. "I suppose I've stalled long enough, haven't I?"

(ooc: i work, too, but I try to tag on my breaks and such when possible)

He accepted the cup easily, and with a quiet: "Thank you." Though he tilted his head a little at the question, almost a shrug, and with the same connotation as one, "I figure you can stall a little longer, at least until the tea's gone." He replied, though it was obviously mostly facetious, "Though I'm pretty damn curious now."

Most people didn't react in anything close to the same manner upon receiving an unexpected package, especially one that had been pending for a while.

[sadly I only have phone at work, no 'social media' access via my computer, and phone tags are a pain, and usually end up typo'd all to hell and back.]

James had always been a man with as many enemies as friends. And some people who counted themselves as friends who had singularly sick senses of 'humour'. He'd once received a human womb in the mail from a former lover, in addition to the usual assortment of bombs and other harmful objects, so he was understandably wary now.

Taking a long sip of tea to steady his nerves, he set down the cup and carefully picked up the package. "All right. Let's see..."

(ooc: i have a tablet, too, so I can tag on that with only a little difficulty. I prefer my computer, but a tablet will do the trick. phone tags are, as you said, a royal pain in the arse. I can't stand typos, so I only use my tablet, and then mainly on my lunch when I have time to be typo-free. but I never say no to the opportunity to escape reality for a few minutes, lol, so I do my best to tag at least once on work days)

Harry was braced, just barely, not tense, exactly, but ready to move out of the way should the contents prove to be dangerous even despite all scans indicating the opposite.

It belied more situational awareness than most couriers had, and some level of combat training, or something like it, which was true. Zodiac wasn't strictly a courier service, at least not like most, they were good at moving things that needed care and secrecy. They also did certain types of pest control, and personnel acquisition and distribution.

[I really ought to invest in one of those one of these days, or perhaps a Bluetooth keyboard for my phone, or something.]

James noted his caution, gingerly turning out the contents of the envelope onto the table. As promised, it's just a book, and a slip of hand-written paper. "Well, that was anticlimactic..."

(Ooc: it comes in so handy, and you can get them for like $50 now, so totally worth it :)

He grinned, settling a little, "It was, a little, but you can never be too careful." Especially in his experience, and he'd had a lot of it.

"I mean, honestly I'm even more curious now than I was before. It's not your birthday or anything, is it?" Birthdays and anniversaries were the reason for most of the specified date deliveries.

[That's good to know!]

"No, not my birthday," he answers, leaving the book (a very old, very rare scientific volume that he penned with some friends in college) for now and picking up the letter that was with it. "Besides, Birthday greetings tend not to be in code..."

He made a thoughtful sound at that, "Guess that depends on what kind of friends you've got. I mean, coded messages are pretty standard for my lot." So were tests of skill required to actually get presents opened, or delivered, or both.

"I know several people whimsical enough to send me mysterious deliveries in code, granted, but the hand-writing doesn't seem to match any of the known ones. Unless they paid someone to write it for them, but why distance themselves from the act?" he muses, studying the coded message. "I suppose it might be roughly John's style, but..."

He shakes his head, sighing. "We must hope it's not from him. If so, it's probably a clue as to a recent string of murders he's committed, and we may hope he's outgrown such infantile games."