[open] out of the blue and into the black

[5055034455]

Date & Time: Throughout August
Location: Around Exsilium
Characters: Saul & TBA
Summary: A catch-all log for Saul's many business etc. meetings throughout the month. Again.
Warnings: N/A; will be updated accordingly.

[The more time Saul spends in Exsilium, the more he realizes he misses Albuquerque. And the more he misses Albuquerque, the more he realizes what he's missing isn't so much ABQ itself, but the idealized version of the city he's constructed in his head over the past four and a half months where nothing mattered but his business and his life and it was all hunky-dory, for the most part.

And then he thinks, shit. Four and a half months. Damn.

Albuquerque was perfect. People came and went, sure, but not at the same rate they do here. Back home, all Saul anticipated on the first of every month was the flipping of a calendar page. (National Geographic's American Landmarks calendar, to be precise. Francesca gets — used to get — him one every year. August would have been a photo of the Alamo at sunset, if he remembers correctly. Ha.) But here — here, each new month brings a horde of unhappy newbies and random disappearances, and there's really only so much doom and gloom Saul can take before it really starts getting to him. He used to be able to track people down. Here? He's helpless.

He misses the sunshine, all 300+ days of it. The Initiative-sponsored trip to the beach was nice, but his tan's already faded and he's pretty sure he's developing some kind of vitamin D problem. He also misses the security of having a boatload of money sitting in his wall. He misses a lot of things. Even the dust storms.

At least he has Jesse. But he can't really cling to Jesse with Walter hanging around, and then there's the problem of Jesse not wanting to be clung to in the first place. Saul can hear that stupid kid's voice in his head just thinking about it: You don't need me, yo. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Right now, it feels like the former. It hasn't stopped feeling that way since April.

Anyway, here's the weird thing: much as he misses home, Walter's presence has made it crystal clear to Saul that he absolutely does not want to go back to that mess. Not now, maybe not ever. He has a bad feeling, and he likes to think he's a pretty intuitive guy — nine times out of ten, his gut's right. Sometimes it's indigestion. But those are odds you don't mess with, and the chow here is just bland enough that it's much easier on his stomach than all that Mexican food.



Somehow, he got it in his head that the more he does in and for this place, the less likely it is that he'll see the sunshine and his money and his calendar and all that dust again, so he's twice as busy this month as he was last month. Three times, maybe. Training, yes; doing business, yes; fueling up on caffeine, hell yes. But August has the added bonus of new things that need caring for: his kitten. His girlfriend. His stupid-as-shit-in-hindsight idea of forming a Transport-run government.

He'd wonder what he was thinking, but he already knows. Better to burn out than fade away, right?]

Comments

open | whenever, wherever;

[5055034455]

[Most days, Saul is out. His routine usually goes something like this: training in the morning, then over to the office, then out for lunch, then elsewhere for whatever the hell he has in mind that day, then back to 509.

Usually.

Sometimes, he pokes around the library. Sometimes, he people-watches outside. Sometimes, he people-watches inside. It's entirely likely he can be caught in the hallways of the Hold or the housing building. The street, too.

Basically, the odds of running into him at some point are high. The odds of striking up a conversation with him are just as high.

But the question here is do you really want to do that?]

[pilot]

[ yes. in fact in the library is one han solo attempting to work on what looks like a radio because why the fuck not. he's being quiet. ish. or rather he is quiet, but his teddy bear companion is really kind of a pain. chittering to himself, he drags over a chair so he can climb on the table to see what han is doing only to be unceremoniously shoved off the moment he pokes his head over the edge. the ewok growls. han continues working. ]

[5055034455]

[That is not an Ewok.

Saul is not looking at an Ewok in real life right now.

It's just not a thing that's happening.

Nope.

He strolls right on by, headed for the stacks.]

[quackery]

[Despite having to wander through the dreary streets and the rain to arrive there, the library is one of her favorite places to visit. It provides a distraction from the way things are here, and that's reason enough to visit often. Seeing a familiar face is an added bonus, and she wanders over, curious (and nosy).]

What're you looking for? Something good?

[5055034455]

[He turns, already smiling, from the stack he's been staring at — a huge section on religion — when he hears her. Then he reaches out and pokes her nose.

Yeah, Ahiru. That just happened.]

Yup. Found it. What's up, kiddo?

sorry this is late

[andagain]

[Not long after their network conversation, in fact it was just a day or two afterwards, Keith manages to spot Saul in the crowds of people in the evening. It's late, and he's out walking the dog, but he's going to get the other man's attention by patting him on the shoulder. Keith flashes one friendly smile to him.]

Yo, it's nice to meet you in person, Mr. Goodman.

no problem!

[5055034455]

[The dog is what catches Saul's attention first. He's not much of a dog person, truth be told. So his eyes flick from Keith's straight down to the dog's, then back up, at which point he smiles — but it's a little lopsided, a little concerned.]

And you as well, Mr. Goodman. I'll call you Keith if you call me Saul.

Roslyn | August 1;

[5055034455]

[One of his first meetings of the month is with Roslyn Small. Wait, no. Sorry — Detective Chief Inspector Roslyn Small.

It almost makes him laugh. If people think he's nuts for wanting to get a legal system of some kind in place, what does that make her? DCI of a police force that polices what, exactly? Poor manners? That's what thievery and murder and all that fun stuff boil down to, in the absence of the law; it's just rude.

But okay, whatever. He'll roll with it. She already seems far more competent than most of the fuzz he's had dealings with back home, anyway, and he figures it might be nice to not have an adversarial relationship with law enforcement for once.

So he's waiting for her in one of the less-terrible coffee shops. Not his favorite one, since he doesn't like her that much yet, but he could have gone with a worse option and didn't. He wants to make a good first impression, after all.]

[boughtabookstore]

[ There really needs to be a much more clearly defined legal system in place than the one they currently have. Or the lack of one they had - everyone who had been working on it had vanished, which left it in a rather shaky position. They still had the things they had always been working on - assault, theft, murder - but there were few hard defined guidelines.

This meeting will be good for organizing a restart on that. If there's a stronger push towards it, they can leave something behind for the next people. (If they ever leave. She's starting to doubt she will.) When she arrives she's in plainclothes as normal, hair tightly pulled back since she just came off shift, nothing to denote her as an officer of the law. Her gun stays in the station when she's not there, and her Initiative assigned weapon she only carries to the training center and back. She hangs her coat neatly over the back of the available chair and holds her hand out. ]

Mr. Goodman. It's a pleasure to meet you.

[5055034455]

[He'd hoped for nothing less, really; it's a relief to see that she's all business. Some people might not believe it, but sometimes, Saul appreciates strict professionalism.

That's why he rises from his seat as soon as she approaches, reaching out to grip her hand and give it a firm shake. He's smiling, of course, but there's no hint of a smirk tweaking the corners of his mouth just yet.]

And you, Detective. Pick your poison: coffee or tea. My treat.

Caesar | August 8;

[5055034455]

[As soon as Saul heard Caesar's message on the answering machine in the DITR office, he knew the kid was talking about Collette. What he didn't know were the specifics of her mission, like where she went or what she did there or why she was sent with Gamora, of all people — and oh, right, he also didn't know that she said no.

He still doesn't know the details, but he knows the Initiative made one hell of a mistake.

A little angry and a lot worried, he makes his way over to the apartments in record time to meet Caesar.]

[commentboxtroll]

[ And Caesar won't be at all hard to find.

He's standing nearly right in front of the doors, huddled just inside the indent that the door is set into, avoiding the rain while he can. It isn't so bad, as far as the rain here goes, but he isn't going to hang out in it more than necessary. ]

August 16

[hostage]

[Jesse's not looking for Saul. In fact, Jesse's avoiding Saul, because half of his face is swollen and purple and he knows how that will go over. (Spoilers: not well.) But a guy's gotta eat, and god knows Jesse's not cooking for himself if he doesn't have to, so he's on his way into town to grab dinner. He's got the hood of his jacket up to shield him from the rain, but also to keep anyone glancing over from getting an immediate look at his face. Hands shoved into his pockets, he's walking at a fast pace to get into town without any Transports catching him.]

[5055034455]

[Saul would know that hood anywhere.

Jesse's walking quickly enough that he actually makes it a few steps away before Saul realizes who just breezed by, at which point he stops, turns quickly enough to shake some droplets free from his umbrella, and yells after his most favorite client in the world ever:] Yo, Pinkman! What the hell?

[Because there's no way he didn't notice Saul.

How does one not notice Saul.]

Anne | August 12;

[5055034455]

[So, Anne Boleyn wants his company.

Anne Boleyn, whom he last saw at the beach. With Jesse.

Anne Boleyn.

His ego is telling him he should be thrilled, but mostly, he feels wary — especially since she made a point to tell him it's not "worth concern." Reverse psychology.

Come half past noon, he's waiting outside the DITR office as promised, back and one foot against the wall, attention torn between watching for Anne's arrival and checking his tablet for who knows what.]

[ensorceler]

[ She arrives with quiet steps, though the shuffling of skirt fabric might be a dead give-away for anyone close enough to listen. It isn't as if she's trying to sneak up on him, anyway, but he seems distracted enough that if she timed it right, she might be able to walk right by him without him noticing.

Which is hard to imagine, since today she is wearing pearl earrings to go with her most recently finished outfit, and she could not feel more delighted about it. Such things, thought she had not exactly taken for granted, had not been so difficult to come by back in her own time. To have such a limited wardrobe certainly does make her appreciate shiny things even more than before (if such a thing is possible), and it's part of the reason her smile is quirked to the side as she approaches. Well, that and his slightly distracted state.

Close enough to be heard in privacy, but just far enough to stay out of his peripheral vision, she speaks up. ]

If you expect me to appear from the tablet as if I were fae, then I fear I am to disappoint you.

Padmé | August 4;

[5055034455]

[This is not a meeting Saul's looking forward to.

At all.

It's not that he doesn't like Padmé, of course. She's smart, she's pretty, she'll surely prove useful once he gets her on his side — but that's the part he's dreading. Then again, winning her over can't be any harder than winning Helena over was.

Or maybe it'll be harder. He doesn't know; he hasn't spent enough time talking with her to get a sense of how she works just yet, and it's been a while since he... saw those movies...

...God, what a thought.

Anyway, she'd agreed to meet him for lunch at a café near the Hold. He's not really hungry, but that's just as well — less money for him to spend in the name of extending an olive branch.]

Barbara | August 6;

[5055034455]

[And then there's Barbara Gordon, who's already stolen a little piece of Saul's heart. This is why Saul staggers his personal engagements — something possibly unpleasant one day, something less possibly so a day or two after. It's always worked out well. He's hoping that remains true.

For her, he arranges a meeting at the nicest coffee shop in town. The coffee's decent, the atmosphere is nice, and it's usually quiet. It's the same hole-in-the-wall joint he brought Sonya to last month, and look at their relationship now. This place works wonders.

So he's waiting inside on one of the couches, shuffling through a small stack of papers.

(Spoiler: Said stack consists of all the survey results.)]

[bodilesswarrior]

[Barbara fully intends to keep her promise to Steph; no flirting, no pursuing. She's intrigued, most certainly, but Stephanie is more important and always will be.

That doesn't mean she breaks the coffee date. Saul is still and important person to know, and important ally to have. And hell, maybe they can just be friends. The only way to know is to feel it out.

She's suitably impressed by their meeting place; it's downright high end, for and Exsilium cafe. There's a faint smile on her face as she makes her way to the couch.]

I'm betting you know all the best places.

august - 7th idk.

[spellwork]

[ she still doesn't entirely have a cover story yet. angelique hasn't ever exactly been a failure at improvisation, however, though the thought still looms that she'll have to explain herself and that -

has never really ended well for her.

but it isn't as though she has anything to lose, she thinks. not yet. the truth - sans the parts where she failed, of course, could potentially gain her some respect in this strange wasteland. and she'd never say no to that.

explaining magic, though. it's a new concept to her. everything back home was kept so quiet, between her and the people involved - newcomers kept at a minimum. things were more natural there.

but still. she'll figure it out.

she takes a sip of her still-steaming tea and resolves then, at the very least, to not tell him about the vampire thing.

that might be too much. ]

hay bb hay.

[5055034455]

[Saul's running a little late.

Surprise!

It's not his fault, technically; something came up, as things are sometimes wont to do, so he's about ten minutes off schedule when he comes bustling into Angelique's choice of meeting spot, shaking out his umbrella and collapsing it and dropping it into the umbrella stand and then — there he is, finally, standing at her table with a smile.]

Angelique? Hi. Sorry to have kept you waiting.

Sonya | August 27;

[5055034455]

[It's 8 o'clock on the dot, and there's Saul, knock-knock-knocking at Sonya's door. He looks okay; not great, but not as bad as he'd expected to look. There's no sign of tears in his eyes, because he hasn't been crying, and he doesn't look like he's lacking sleep, because he slept like a baby in Stephanie's safe house last night.

But there's something lurking just under the surface that's making him stand a little straighter than usual.

He looks a lot like someone who's waiting for something unpleasant, eyes wide and narrowed all at once, lower lip showing obvious signs of having been chewed on in a not-fun way.

When Sonya opens the door, she'll find him absently straightening and re-straightening his tie.]

[legal_eagle]

[And Sonya notices all that at once, of course. She's not stupid, and she's interacted with Goodman enough by now to pick up on the vagaries of his expressions. But the best way to scare away a skittish beast is to acknowledge it (she guesses - the wildest beasts she encountered growing up were pigeons) - and so she steps right out, right past him, and hoists her bag up on her shoulder before turning and locking her door. And then, with brisk energy and quick efficiency, she says:]

Hey. You know where you want to go?

Jesse | September 1;

[5055034455]

[Saul doesn't want to think about this past week anymore. He's spent too much time replaying the scenes over and over in his head, every painful little detail brought to the surface then shoved back down then dug up again — and for what? So he makes sure he won't forget the way Jesse looked before he tried to off himself? So his cheek never stops stinging where Stephanie slapped him? No. Screw that.

He has work to do.

So the morning of the first finds him and his massive hangover at 409's door for the dozenth time in the past week. He's been checking in on Jesse every so often since that day, the visits extremely brief and tense, but today he's intent on sticking around. He even brought a deck of cards with him.

And if that fails, he'll drag Jesse's ass upstairs for some quality kitten time.

Saul allows himself one moment of nervous hesitation, then knocks.]

[hostage]

[Jesse doesn't know if he's glad to see Saul or not. Feelings like that are getting buried under the weight of his depression, which he would normally attribute to withdrawal if it didn't feel suspiciously like loneliness. But he doesn't dwell on that, either. If he did, he'd be forced to face the truth: he's alone in a sea of people who've been tricked into loving him, and the only ones who really know him are Saul - who now probably hates him - and Mr. White - who's gone.

And Jesse doesn't want to miss either of them.

But here's Saul, diligent in his duty if nothing else. Jesse opens the door, looking marginally improved since Saul's last check-in, if only because he bathed at some point and he's stopped crying so much and taken to simply staring at the wall.]

Yeah, I'm still here.

[It's a joke. A joke so dark that no light escapes it.]