2025-01-31 - Electricity in the Air

The weather outside is taking a dip into cooler: not nearly as cold as it should be, in a Michigan lake, but in the forties instead of the fifties, meaning a slight dip in general park traffic - a light day, though by no means "slow." Still, it means when Kennedy pushes open the door and slides inside the little shop looking for an employee, she's notable, even in her grey bib overalls with purple stitching over a baggy hoodie, faded purple baseball cap, and tool bag. It really does scream "park maintenance" and "ignore me."

Which is harder to do when she checks her cell phone, uncertain, stepping further in and calling out, "Hey. Somebody put in a maintenance request?"

When Kennedy first enters the shop it seems empty. But a curtain parts at the back of the small store and Noah emerges. He's wearing black corduroys, black Chelsea boots, and a white Spellbound polo shirt. Around his neck hangs his employee badge on a lanyard.

"Hey," he says. "Yeah I think my manager did. I'm Noah." He gives a warm, friendly salute to Kennedy as he strides over to a counter. "This plug here doesn't seem to work." He gestures to a wall socket near the credit card reader. The reader is not plugged in there. Instead it is plugged into a Tarjay-quality extension cord, which itself is plugged into another Tarjay-quality extension cord, which is plugged into the next-closest electrical outlet. "This probably is no good," Noah says with a laugh as he runs his hand back through his hair. He is peering at the extension cord chain.

Oh, good, someone. Kennedy flashes a relieved, if slightly awkward, smile and stuttered wave towards Noah, heading towards the counter. She pauses when she notices the extension cord chain, following it for a moment instead of Noah with a furrow of her brow-- which fades as she throws him a grin after seeing it all, "Oh, you're actually fine with something like this. Daisy chaining cords's only dangerous when you start plugging stuff in everywhere, or you don't plug things in right."

The tool bag is tossed (with a thwunk) to the ground near the outlet. "Some people don't connect the ends tight enough," She crouches down, testing the "joints," "But mostly if you're plugging one, maybe two things in per outlet, you're good. More than that... Outlets aren't magic, uh," She squints up at Noah, checking the badge. Curse the dim lighting! It leaves her floundering, "uh, so yeah. Not a problem. I'm Kennedy, by the way." It's stitched right on her overalls, L Kennedy.

Noah moves around to the customer-facing side of the counter and leans with his elbows on the countertop. "Well that's good to know that I was not in danger of being consumed in an explosive fireball," the young artist respond with a cocked half grin on his face. "So Kennedy, huh? That's a cool name. I don't think I've ever met a Kennedy before." His gaze follows the work in progress with curious interest. Not much exciting happens here (I mean, unless you include the ghosts that are rumored to be summoned for clients here) so this is the highlight of Noah's afternoon so far.

"So you work for maintenance, huh?" Noah says. A regular Sherlock Holmes, this one. "How long have you been here? I just started on December 23."

Kennedy, satisfied whoever plugged everything in wasn't actually going to burn the whole island down, shifts towards the outlet that doesn't seem to be working, pulling a little electric doohickey from her bib pocket and plugging it into the outlet. Some lights beep. Very exciting stuff.

"Thanks. No relation to the presidential line." Kennedy jokes. It's a terrible joke, but either way! Also there may or may not be some weird flexing and wriggling on her back and abdomen, lifting her hoodie up before batlike wings push the sweater up enough to poke out from the sides of the overalls, one wing reaching to grab her tool bag and drag it closer, the other lowering to help her balance on the ground. Aaand then she flinches, a little, when she hears when Noah started, looking over her shoulder towards him as her winglets edge closer to her body. "Started up October of 2023. Uhh. Welcome to the park? Hope you're acclimating okay."

A flash smile covers over Noah's face as he nods and says. "Ooooh. Okay I shouldn't expect there to be a Secret Service detail outside guarding the place?"

Naturally curious, Noah leans farther over the counter. "Cool, what's that thing do? Does it tell you if there's, like, an electrical current in the outlet or something?"

In response to Kennedy's statement about Noah's acclimation he gives a very nonchalant and casual shrug of one shoulder. "Yeah, so far so good. I even made a friend on my very first morning I woke up here. I had this little gray and white rat sitting on my chest talking to me in my mind. I thought someone drugged me or something." He smiles broadly. "So I named her Mina and now she never leaves me alone."

The door opens and Huck walks into the store, carrying himself with an easy confidence as he glances around and then lets the door close. His lion eyes move around the place, checking it out, as his tail moves about happily behind him. He's wearing a tight white Ashirt with a thick lined flannel hung open over it with dark brown corduroy pants that hug his athletic thighs and flair into bell bottoms. He carries a beat up sketchbook in his claw as he steps over to some of the illustrations on the wall and takes a look at things, noting an easy, "Hey Kennedy. Wassup, New Guy?"

The winglets relax - and Kennedy does too. "Not for me, anyway. And yeah, basically. Mostly tells me if anyone screwed up the wiring, and with the park being this new, always good to check."

She ducks her head to hide a grin at the drugging talk, "Yeah, my first month was when the ghosts started up around here. I just thought everyone was really into Halloween. Or pulling the new guy's leg. You know where the breaker box--" Someone's coming! Kennedy straightens to check who, then raises a hand in greeting, "Hey Huck." Her eyes dart behind him, then back at him, "Off duty right now?"

Noah upnods toward Kennedy's wings. "So I take it those are courtesy of Magical Fantasy Island?" His gaze wanders over them, fascinated by the sight. He's new enough that magic is still pretty wondrous for him. "Do they work? Can you, like, fly?"

In response to her question he replies, "Yeah through that curtain there and to the right. It's next to the snack machine on the wall."

He turns around when he hears the door open. His gaze falls over the new arrival's eyes and claws, marking him as a likely employee. So Noah doesn't need to pop into Professional Mode. He nods to Huck. "Well hello back at you, old guy," he says with a smile. He is leaning against the customer-facing side of a counter so Kennedy can work on an electrical socket on the other side.

Laughing, Huck nods, "Off duty," he repeats confirming. "Old guy?" he says, holding his claws up as if a gun were pointed his way. "Easy there, fella. I come in peace."

He leans closer to one of the illustrations hanging up, looking at an area of it closely, studying it. "Did you say something about ghosts?" he asks, looking over their way so he can see their lips in response. "Are ghosts a thing now, too?" he asks with a smile, tail flicking around.

"Ghosts are so a thing. Kind of a big one, I hear." Kennedy says, leaning on the counter from her end and choosing to waste company time in a bit of chatter. "And yeah," She glances at Noah, her smile wry, "They grew in way slower than some people's weirdness, too, so I spent weeks freaking out about weird spinal growths. Fun times." A blast!

The talk about flight, though, has her sighing and pushing away from the counter, "Nah. No flight. And they've stopped growing, so I don't even know if they'd be functional as wings. But," She points towards the curtain, "Gonna check the breakers. Hopefully they're labeled." And behind the curtain she ducks!

Noah nods as Kennedy heads into the back room. "I have some Cherry Pepsis in the mini-fridge next to the break table. Help yourself if want one."

He turns to consider Huck. "I mean, I'm no expert by any means but I suspect that ghosts have always been around but people just didn't have a reliable means of interacting with them. But they are definitely around. Tourists talk to them right here in this shop several times a day. At least they do when I'm on shift." He walks a step or two closer to Huck and holds out a hand. "Noah. I work here at The Spectral Pen. Good t'meet you."

"Oh, I bet that sucked, Kennedy," Huck says with some sympathy. "My fangs took two weeks and they hurt like a bitch. I thought I needed a root canal for a few days." As for the wings and flight, he notes, "Seems like wings are just window dressing here. I have these," and he lifts his arms, revealing that his shirt and flannel have the armpits cut and adjusted to make room for draping flaps of skin running from his waist to his elbows – wingflaps like a gliding squirrel! "They don't work at all. The magic is what makes the flying work."

And that's when they might notice Huck is floating a few inches off the ground, moving toward them with his clawed hand extended to Noah. "I'm Huck. I do tours for Deaf visitors."

"Thanks!" Kennedy calls from the back. Sharp ears might hear Kennedy is absolutely grabbing a cherry soda. No sharp senses are needed to see the credit card reader blink off then on again, and Kennedy reappears, sipping her soda. "I think I read somewhere on the internet wings on people shouldn't work anyway, biologically." She helpfully puts in. "So any flight's magical. But my magic wings don't." She says with a sigh.

"He also helps me out with my crappy ASL sometimes, so he's also up for sainthood somewhere. Glad I didn't get fangs, though. I'd be giving off vampire vibes and I don't own that much eyeliner."

Noah's gaze shifts down floorward to notice Huck floating. "Okay, well speaking of vampires THAT seems like how Dracula would enter a room," he says with a cocked half grin. "It's also quite amazing." He looks over at Kennedy and points down to Huck's feed. "You seeing this? That is seriously amazing."

Pulling out a chair at one of the tables, Noah flops down. "So I'm the only unwinged one here, I guess." He peers at Huck. "Are you also Deaf as well as being an interpreter? If so, I'm assuming you can read lips?"

"Drink a Red Bull," Huck offers to Noah. "You know. It gives you wings." He shrugs, with a little laugh.

"I think you'd look amazing with fangs and eyeliner, Kennedy," Huck shares with an earnest grin. Slowly his feet drop back down to the ground.

"I am," he answers Noah about his hearing. "And I do. Usually it's pretty good as long as folks don't turn their head away from me or they don't say anything too colloquial. Or even, just, odd words that aren't used much are sometimes hard, too." He gives a friendly little point to Kennedy, and signs to her, <<Your ASL is fine!>>

Kennedy rolls her eyes, signing << Bullshit >> with her free hand - though she's grinning as she does. Pulling out her doohickey, she tries the outlet again. Squints. Then turns back to the counter and leans on it, "So I think there might be a loose wire. I can pop the outlet open and fix it, but it means turning off the circuit for a little bit, which'll interrupt business if someone walks in. Should be pretty quick, and it's been slow in the park today, honestly, but it's your call."

Then she's side-eyeing Huck, "You say that, but eyepatches aren't a good look for me, and that's what happens when I try to do eyeliner. I'll leave the vampires to the Boo'dwalk folk."

Noah lets out a small, friendly laugh. "Yeah I caught that," he says when Huck explains the Red Bull joke.

With a bit of contemplation, Noah finally shrugs. "I mean, it's rarely this slow in here so I'd say go for it. I have no idea if I have the authority to approve that but if it's gonna be just a short while and it's dead in the shop...." He snorts out a laugh through his nose. "...no pun intended." He nods to Kennedy. "But yeah, go for it. If someone gets pissed they can get pissed at me."

"We all have a few loose wires. I think it's part of being here on the islands," laughs Huck. "You've not been here long, New Guy." Apparently it's a nickname now? "You have anything wild and weird happening with you? Any magic yet?"

Another illustration on the wall catches his eye and he distractedly looks over at it, leaning close a moment, then looking back to Noah. "Do you do any of the art in here?" asks Huck curiously, still clutching his own ratty sketchbook in his clawed hands.

"Nah, don't worry about it. If your manager has an issue have 'em give me a call." Kennedy says, brushing off the concern before setting her cherry pepsi down. Before heading into the curtain, she turns around to add, "He's got a rat in his brain." Before she slips back out. She's back seconds later - probably left the breaker door open and eveything - before heading to the outlet, one wing grabbing a screwdriver from her pocket to her hand so she can start taking apart the outlet.

With a smile Noah says to Kennedy, "She's not very big I think the two of us could probably take her." The twinkle in his hazel eyes should assure Kennedy, who literally just met him, that he is totally joking about that.

Noah makes a little breathy snort through his nose when Huck calls him New Guy again. "As a matter of fact most of the art on the walls is mine. We draw portraits of people's deceased relatives or friends based on pictures they bring us. And honestly, that's all this place was supposed to be. I pitched the concept to Marketing during my interviews. But then it turns out that I can summon ghosts." He laughs and puts his arms out to the side as he shrugs in one of those 'Who knew?' gestures. "So basically I bring in the ghost of who I'm drawing so the family can talk to them one last time." He peers up to the ceiling for a moment. "Sometimes that goes well, and sometimes it does not."

Huck's eyes open a little wider and his mouth joins them, agape. He's a lion in headlights for a long moment. "Oh."

Seeing ghosts is apparently new for him.

"Is this... a new thing for you?" he finally manages. "You couldn't do this before you came here? Or could you?" Then he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and his tail starts to wag. "Wait. Are you fucking with me?" he asks, starting to smile.

With a broad smile and a laugh Noah confirms, "Yeah this is totally new. I never summoned ghosts before I got here." He cocks his head a bit to the side. "No, I'm definitely not fucking with you. I do it multiple times a day every day. Some customers believe it's real, some think it's special effects and parlor tricks. I had a guy a couple of week ago give me a $500 cash tip, and last night a lady wanted to burn me at the stake. So...results vary."

"If you ever want to see if for yourself bring me a picture of somebody you know who is deceased," Noah says, flicking his head to get his hair out of his face. "Me drawing them isn't part of the magic, it's just to give the customers something they can bring home with them. But I do need to see a picture of them to do it."

There's a broad swath of emotions that rapidly move across Huck's face. He doesn't say anything, instead, just nods, and looks back at the drawing on the wall again. "You're really good."

He smirks, shrugging, "I draw, too. I saw all these in here the other night and was kind of wondering where you get your supplies? I could use some ebony pencils and didn't know if there was maybe someplace here on the islands you get yours or if you have to go all the way to mainland?"

Kennedy's let the conversation go while she's focused on the outlet: could be because, since the lighting is dim here in the shop, she's got a mini flashlight between her lips as she fiddles with wires and does things with tools. Nothing's being blown up, so it's probably all working out. A doodad checks whatsits in the walls. A thingamabob is used to fiddle with a thingamajig.

Either way, it's apparently a quick fix, and a winglet pinches the flashlight away while she screws in the outlet. "I honestly grab art supplies from Tarjay when I need it, but I'm not exactly serious about art or anything." She mentions, turning her head to the group when she does.

"Thanks, man," Noah says, genuinely accepting the compliment from the lion dude. He motions toward Huck's sketchbook. "Mind if I take a look? If they're private, that's all good. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

Rubbing his chin, Noah replies, "Well honestly I don't know. My manager orders all the supplies for the shop, I'm assuming from some art supply company on the mainland. She lets any of the employees order personal supplies at cost, so that saves me quite a bit of money," He raises both eyebrows. "If you want me to I can ask her about where she orders them?"

Noah gives an earnest nod to Kennedy. "Yeah, same with me before I started working here. Although I occasionally get a big tip, for the most part I can't afford expensive art supplies. Tarjay has a solid art section to be honest."

"Im not good like you are," says Huck, "I just mess around mostly." He hands the sketchbook over. The book is beaten and battered, clearly just thrown in backpacks or tossed around tables and things, but the pages inside are filled with illustrations of things and people from all around the park. He's actually quite talented, perhaps not quite as much as Noah, but they're close to professional quality. Clearly, they are all done on site, drawing what he sees around him. Some are pencil and ebony pencil, but most of them are done with pen and ink.

As Noah looks, he sighs, "Yeah. Tarjay is my go to right now. I was just hoping for maybe something better."

"You could probably ask the manager if you can get in on sharing some of the supplies. Or ask around Crescent, see if any of the shops do custom orders." Kennedy suggests, "Or, honestly, talk to the design people - if anybody knows where to get art stuff, it's gonna be the guys who do props."

That said, Kennedy sticks the original doohickey back in the outlet, keeping it there while she ducks behind the curtain, seconds later peeking her head out to check the doohickey out. "Awesome. Looks like we might be set. I'll close the breaker, gimme a sec and I'll close everything up."

Noah crosses one leg over the other and sets Huck's sketchbook on his lap. He begins to flip through it page by page. Sometimes he lingers on a particular image. Sometimes he glances up at Huck for a moment when he views a particular image. But he keeps going until he has honestly looked at each picture, then he gently closes the book and sets it on the table he's sitting at. "Yep," he says with a nod. "You're definitely right. You are not good like me." He gestures to Huck. "You're good like you. These are solid drawings, Huck. I mean you're not fuckin around here. There are some things I could give notes on for these, but you have talent. And if anyone has convinced you otherwise or you've convinced yourself otherwise, it's bullshit."

When Kennedy confirms the work is done, Noah rises. "Oh cool, thank you so much. It will be nice not to worry about tripping over extension-cord-ageddon back there anymore." He walks over to the counter. "Do I have to sign anything?"

"That's maybe a good idea, Kennedy," Huck agrees. "I'll hit the Tarjay first and if I can't find something, maybe I'll see if I can get in on an order or just buy supplies from one of these art shops."

Noah gets an eyeroll, "You don't have to say that to be nice. I really don't have a lick of creativity in my whole body. If I'm not looking at it, I can't draw it." Clearly, there's some frustration there based in that feeling. "I just do it for funs. It kills time while the guests I'm with are riding rides." He picks his sketchbook up.

"Nah. Way it works for maintenance requests is I close out the ticket saying I did the work, whoever put in the request gets a confirmation request, and there's a follow-up link if somebody fu-- didn't do their job but closed the ticket anyway." Kennedy explains to Noah, perhaps figuring it's good information for the new guy to have. "The park's got a whole ticket system set up where you can report hinky stuff."

Taking a break from the outlet, she moves to look over Noah's shoulder, to check out the art. "You're way better than me. I don't usually do people, though. People are too lumpy to draw right. And I can't do the imagination thing either. But I just like sketching to keep my hands busy sometimes."

When Huck protests the compliment Noah actually shoots him a 'seriously?' expression for a moment. He shakes his head briefly. "Whatever. I have an art and design degree from an Ivy League college. If you don't take my word for it, Huck, then you just aren't ready to believe it. It's all good. Maybe you'll get there in your head and maybe you won't. But as long as you're drawing for you that's all that matters."

"You know what most people struggle with? Hands," Noah says to Kennedy. "I actually took an entire course in college that was just drawing hands. By the end of the course I was so sick of drawing hands." He laughs a bit as he leans back against the counter.

Huck nods, "Fuck hands." He shrugs, tail swishing a bit. "Alright. I need to run, but you two stay cool, eh."

"Well New Guy, if I run across any dead relative photos, I'll be sure to hit you up." He lifts a claw to Kennedy, "Take it easy." And he begins to make his way out.

"Take care, Huck!" Kennedy says with a wave, before she slides back to the outlet, unplugs the card reader from the extension cords and plugs it back into the outlet. Lo and behold, it works!

"I don't have a problem drawing hands, since I never need to draw them." Kennedy jokes, "And I can trace a hand turkey with the best of 'em. Mostly I'm a one trick pony. I like infrastructure. But yeah," Kennedy takes a minute as she readjusts her sweater, her wings slipping inside it again and settling against her, unseen once more, as she reaches for her tool bag, "It was cool meeting you, Noah. Good luck with the ghosts, I guess?"

Noah puts a fist out for a bump, if Kennedy is into such gesture. "Yeah, seriously, an electrician is a good friend to have," he says with a lopsided smile.

"Later, Huck," he says as the lion guy heads out the door. "Keep drawing!"

And then a man and a woman who appear to be in their 60s, wearing expensive clothes and shoes (always check the shoes if you want to know how much money someone has), walk into the shop. With a broad, professional, friendly smile Noah approaches them. "Welcome to The Spectral Pen," Noah says to them, clasping his hands behind his back. "My name is Noah and tonight I'll be your guide into the realm of the dearly departed. May I get you some tea?"