Bibliothèque du Champs de Mars

[RaeRae]

Rachel Scott

"Ah, please. It's Tom." Rachel chuckled softly, writing down something else. "Well then Tom, I'm more than happy to have you sitting at my table." She hardly found anyone to really strike up a good conversation with here, which was odd. She was here often enough...you would think she gained quite a few friends around the library...maybe the librarians but that's about it.

"Raymond Chandler...'The Long Goodbye.' Brushing up on private-eye fiction. Looks like you're doing some investigation of your own.."" Rachel grinned as he mentioned her little investigation. "Planning to write you're own detective book soon? And yes I am! I feel like some of those other journalists put me to shame. All those Pulitzers and such." She wrinkled her nose a bit. "I realized I could stand to improve on a thing or two."

"No where to turn but to the books!" She shrugged and tilted her head a bit. "You were over at the journalist table, weren't ya?" Rachel idly thought that she liked his accent. He was probably the first Irish person she'd actually had a real conversation with Paris...okay that might be a lie but at least the first in a very long time.

"That I was. Journalism runs in my blood, or so I found out in high school. How about you Tom? When did you find out that writing was your thing?"

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Tom elected not to answer the question about why he’d chosen a detective novel in particular; truthfully, he wanted some sort of insight on sleuthing itself, since he was doing a bit of investigative work himself these days. No good reason to bring up Kenneth, though. Somehow, Tom didn’t think telling people – near strangers – that he was fruitlessly searching for a son he’d never met would win him many friends. Instead, he smiled and shrugged, as if shier than he actually was.

Instead, conversation turned to Rachel’s books and career as a journalist. Tom knew the feeling she described – listening to the award winners parade their accolades at every turn drove him batty. But what could you do? Writing was a personal journey, a bit Zen that way. You found your own path to enlightenment or what have you. Some chose the fiction path; others journalism.

"That I was. Journalism runs in my blood, or so I found out in high school. How about you Tom? When did you find out that writing was your thing?"

“Aw, Christ,” Tom thought, shutting his eyes. “I didn’t even know ya could be a writer when I was a kid. Mostly, everyone was on my case for makin’ up stories. But…” He opened his eyes and shrugged. “Apparently, fiction can pay the bills. Well. A little bit. Mostly I work in a bookshop these days. ‘S not bad. What paper do you write for, Rachel?”

[RaeRae]

Rachel Scott

Rachel wrote down a few more notes, flipped through a few more pages. It was nice to be talking to someone with the same interest in writing. Obviously not the same field, but the interest level was still there. She ran a hand through her hair, peeking back up at him as he answered her. "I didn't even know ya could be a writer when I was a kid, everyone was on my case for makin' up stories."

"Truly? That's silly. Stories are fun! Though I haven't really sat down and read fiction in a long time. Mostly I'm distracted by the non-fiction and the how to." Rachel motioned to the books in front of her. "As you can so plainly see." And he did have a point, if you were good, fiction did pay the bills. She had written a few short stories to make some extra cash while she was in college, but then it turned to articles for various sites.

"What paper do you write for, Rachel?" Tom was asking.

Rachel paused her writing to return her attention him. "Harper's Gazette. It's an online paper, much less stressful with the deadlines considering how much of a perfectionist I need to be." She laughed. "I do a column...usually about interesting things that day, or events going on in the area. Things like that."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Tom set down his book. Typically, he would make an argument in favor of multitasking, but when your choices were reading a classic mystery novel or chatting with a pretty journalist, you could only focus on one at a time. It simply wouldn’t be fair to try to divide your attention. A true Sophie’s choice for the modern man. Tom asked Rachel what paper she worked for.

"Harper's Gazette. It's an online paper, much less stressful with the deadlines considering how much of a perfectionist I need to be," Rachel said with a laugh.

Tom laughed, too. He could never have made a living as a journalist. Deadlines – frequent deadlines – turned him cold. It was like being told how and when and what to write. He never knew if he should envy or admire journalists for their perfectionism.

"I do a column...usually about interesting things that day, or events going on in the area. Things like that," Rachel continued.

“I’ll have to check you out,” Tom said. “I’m curious. What constitutes somethin’ interesting for an article?”

[RaeRae]

Rachel Scott

"I'm curious. What constitutes somethin' interesting for an article?"

Rachel loved this question, it was usually phrased differently depending on who was asking it, but she enjoyed answering it, because there was no right or wrong answer. "Well now, it all depends on whose writing the article and what it's going to be about." She set down her pencil now, turning her full attention on Tom. How often did she get to really enjoy a conversation like this? Not often, and she could take the books home anyways.

"For instance, someone with a love for animals might find something animal-related that many people might not know and research it and write about it. For me, something interesting makes a dull and boring day a little more exciting. Something that has an air of adventure and maybe even a bit of danger." There was a spark in her eyes as she spoke, perhaps recalling a few old memories to mind.

Rachel'd had the chance to enjoy many adventures over the years that helped with her writing, and maybe one or two that landed her in jail over night for minor indiscretions. "I came to Paris for the first time during my Junior year of college to study abroad. I needed something good to write about for my journalism course, so I spent days prowling the city, trying to find something worth while to write about. Then one night I decided to wander down to La Périphérie, heard whispers of something going on in the outskirts of town the next night. Went back home, found some clothes that fit more with what I assumed the atmosphere would be like...and then the next night I witnessed my first drag race."

Rachel chuckled softly as she took a small breath, a wanted to give him a chance to get a word in if he so wished. "Things like that...that's what I consider interesting for an article."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Tom wondered if nonfiction writing was secretly the same as fiction writing: you wrote whatever tickled your fancy (or the publisher’s) and hoped for the best. He’d never been particularly good with facts; remembering dates and proper names always made his brain a little fuzzy. Undiagnosed ADD or something, maybe. He’d never been able to pay attention when he was supposed to. Only when something grabbed his attention and refused to let go.

But Tom reckoned that there had to be a magic something for journalists. They were always chasing a story. Not the way Tom chased stories – inside his own head – but out in the world, ever vigilant for the next big thing. Whatever that meant.

"Well now, it all depends on whose writing the article and what it's going to be about," Rachel said reasonably. "For instance, someone with a love for animals might find something animal-related that many people might not know and research it and write about it. For me, something interesting makes a dull and boring day a little more exciting. Something that has an air of adventure and maybe even a bit of danger."

Adventure? Danger? Now this girl was talking. Tom had always wished for the opportunity to be some sort of James Bond: leading a life full of purpose, excitement, and attractive women. What bloke didn’t dream of a life like that? Of course, Tom’s life had been particularly unexciting until lately. And somehow, he thought, finding out that you and your teenage sweetheart had a kid running around in the world never seemed to be a plot point for in Fleming’s novels. Other than that, though, Tom’s writing required bare-bones research. It was cheap fiction, mostly. But it paid the bills while he tried to strike gold for what would undoubtedly be his greatest work yet. Someday.

The life of a journalist though… It had him curious.

"I came to Paris for the first time during my Junior year of college to study abroad. I needed something good to write about for my journalism course, so I spent days prowling the city, trying to find something worth while to write about. Then one night I decided to wander down to La Périphérie, heard whispers of something going on in the outskirts of town the next night. Went back home, found some clothes that fit more with what I assumed the atmosphere would be like...and then the next night I witnessed my first drag race."

Tom gave a small whistle, which garnered him some ugly stares from strangers and one “shh!” from a nearby librarian. But if they’d heard Rachel’s story, they’d be whistling too. He wanted to hear more about this drag race: the smell of burnt rubber mingling with oil slick, the sound of revving engines and roaring chatter… It would make an amazing piece of fiction. Or, well, of journalism, apparently.

"Things like that...that's what I consider interesting for an article," Rachel finished, finally pausing for breath and a chuckle. Tom grinned at her.

“How often d’ya come up against opposition, though?” he asked. “Someone who won’t let you do your job?”

He’d heard horror stories about journalists being kicked out of venues, out of events. He’d even been escorted from premises himself, trying to research for a novel a time or two. But, surely, Rachel had the real inside scoop about it. Especially if she was hanging around Le Peripherie…

[RaeRae]

Rachel always had a thing for dangerous situations, not life-threatening danger (though you couldn't always rule that out) but general danger. It made journalism interesting. It was different from the paparazzi. Even Rachel hated those no-good, money grubbing....she shook her head. Most of them gave journalists a bad name. Rachel preferred the undercover stuff, though she really hadn't gone 'undercover' for a story in years. Merely observed quietly, asked a couple seemingly innocent questions, simple stuff but still got the job done.

Man what Rachel would give to get the chance to go undercover again, to break a new story. Her thoughts had wandered a bit, but she was quickly brought back by Tom's whistle and the angry librarians. “How often d’ya come up against opposition, though? Someone who won't let you do your job?”

"All the time." Rachel grinned. "That's the fun of it though! Coming up against opposition and getting around it, talking your way out of it. Once, in New York, my friend's father was on the drug task force. He got permission to let me sit in a van during a raid they did. Well me, being me, sneaked out of the van and stood outside instead. The shouting, there were even gunshots from inside the warehouse." She shook her head again.

Looking back now she should have at least grabbed a bulletproof vest, it was a good thing she hadn't gotten shot that day, was back in the van before it was all over. It had certainly made a good story though. "It's been a long time since I've been able to find a really good story though. One worth going undercover to get more information about."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Rachel grinned. Tom felt like a little kid, getting a special story-time in the library; he was too fascinated to care that he must have sounded like a gleeful four year old. He’d met a natural-born storyteller and kindred spirits like that didn’t come along every rainy Sunday.

"All the time,” Rachel said. “That's the fun of it though! Coming up against opposition and getting around it, talking your way out of it. Once, in New York, my friend's father was on the drug task force. He got permission to let me sit in a van during a raid they did. Well me, being me, sneaked out of the van and stood outside instead. The shouting, there were even gunshots from inside the warehouse." She shook her head again. "It's been a long time since I've been able to find a really good story though. One worth going undercover to get more information about."

“Going undercover,” Tome echoed. “I like that. It’s very… spy at the airport, y’know?”

He grinned and shook his head. Of course when Rachel said “going undercover” she didn’t mean pretending to be undercover or watching a crowd of people and inventing a story in which one of them was undercover. She meant it literally. Sometimes, Tom thought he would give his left lung for that kind of excitement in his life. But he wasn’t exactly a tough guy. Or if he was, he never really had much of a chance to find out. He’d been the prankster in school, the class clown. Even as a grown man, he wasn’t serious enough to seriously consider a career in which he had to be… well… serious.

Not every thought had to be a perfectly polished gem of literature.

“Most of my research takes place here,” he confessed with a sigh. “Or online, I s’pose. People don’t take fiction writers half as seriously as they take journalists. Every time I’ve asked to shadow a police detective or anything exciting, they turn me down. Well, maybe not every time, but… Plenty often.”

[RaeRae]

Rachel Scott

"Going undercover, I like that. It's very...spy at the airport, y'know?" When Tom grinned, Rachel smiled again. How long had it been since she'd be able to really talk to someone about a couple of her adventures? Someone interested in actually listening to them, to be more specific. A long time would be the answer. She rarely got to talk shop with people who wanted to listen face to face.

"It'd be fun to be a spy sometimes I think. Like a real, honest to go, exploding tapes and grappling hooks on hand kind of spy." Rachel chuckled, completely ignoring the look that she got for it. Actually, she'd idly noted that they were getting quite a few looks, like it was bad to laugh...after all it wasn't like this place was completely silent anyways with all the people in it! "But, being a normal, story-digging spy is good enough for me."

"Most of my research takes place here," Tom sighed and Rachel offered a smile as he continued. "Or online, I s'pose. People don't take fiction writers half as seriously as they take journalists. Every time I've asked to shadow a police detective or anything exciting, they turn me down. Well, maybe not every time, but...Plenty often."

"I know how you feel. It's gotta be a French thing really. In the States, well at least where I was living in New York, they evaluated you, ran a couple background checks, and let you shadow for a day or two, depending on who you were and what you wanted to shadow for." She nodded. "I've yet to shadow any cops or investigators here, except maybe once for a school project, nothing for my career. Besides, it's hard to get in on the fun stuff when the law hangs around." She smirked a bit. "Maybe one of these days you could shadow me!"

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

"I know how you feel. It's gotta be a French thing really. In the States, well at least where I was living in New York, they evaluated you, ran a couple background checks, and let you shadow for a day or two, depending on who you were and what you wanted to shadow for," Rachel said with a nod. Clearly, she understood Tom’s plight as well as – better than – anyone else he’d met. There was something inherently awkward about being an expatriate in Paris. There were whole scores of people, hailing from across the globe, who identified as Parisian. And yet, ask any native Parisian, and it was like the expats were all just long-term tourists.

"I've yet to shadow any cops or investigators here, except maybe once for a school project, nothing for my career. Besides, it's hard to get in on the fun stuff when the law hangs around," Rachel continued with a smirk. Tom nodded, recalling the security guards who escorted him off of a private university’s grounds some weeks ago, refusing to believe that he really was searching for his son. The law touted itself as being the great equalizer, there to help people. As if. "Maybe one of these days you could shadow me!"

Tom pointed his index finger at Rachel excitedly.

“Now you’re talkin’,” he said with a grin. “I’d offer t’ let you shadow me, but I guarantee you, there’s nothin’ exciting about my day job.”

He wondered if, maybe, Rachel would be keen on joining him in his hunt for Kenneth. He'd scarcely trusted anyone with his "mission". Not even his brothers knew what he was doing in Paris, besides writing a new book. Not even his mum knew. That was something. But it wasn't like Tom hadn't done this before, disappeared off the family tree for a little while to pursue his own interests. His friends, too, were under the impression that he was in Paris for work, for adventure. All of them, anyways, except Toni, who had given him a place to stay before he found his own place. And even then, Toni had been nothing more than a sympathetic ear; she didn't have the time to go on a wild goose chase with him. But an investigative reporter... Well... wasn't that sort of her job?

Something to think about.

[RaeRae]

Rachel Scott

It was nice to be able to connect with someone who understood what it could be like, and she was sure Tom felt the same. Rachel marked her open book and closed it up, along with a couple others she'd had open. The librarian was probably going to give her a look and warn her that there was going to be trouble if she didn't bring them back on time. Rachel couldn't help that she took her time! They should be happy she didn't actually write in any of them!

She finally focused on Tom again, her full attention on him now. "Now you're talkin'." He was grinning. "I'd offer t' let you shadow me, but I guarantee you, there's nothin' exciting about my day job."

Rachel laughed softly. "I'm sure there's something exciting every once in a while about your day job. " She paused to tear out a piece of paper from her notebook and then tore it in half. She wrote down her number and email on one and then handed him both halves and her pencil. "There's my number and email, give me yours and I can let you know next time I've got something exciting and dangerous on my schedule."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Rachel laughed. Tom decided he liked the sound. Of course, he loved to make people laugh anyways. But there was something warm about Rachel’s laugh that told him she wasn’t laughing at him, so much as with him. You could tell that about a person’s laugh – if it was forced, if they were making fun, what have you. Or at least Tom thought you could. Hoped.

"I'm sure there's something exciting every once in a while about your day job," she said kindly.

Tom shrugged. The most exciting part of his day was usually when a new shipment of books came into the store. There was something about the smell of new paper, new ink, and the way a new book felt that was intoxicating. Somehow, though, he didn’t think that qualified as ‘exciting’.

A faint ripping sound caught his ear. He looked to see that Rachel was scribbling on a half sheet of notebook paper. He rested his head against his hand, peering at her curiously. And then she handed him both halves of the paper.

"There's my number and email, give me yours and I can let you know next time I've got something exciting and dangerous on my schedule."

“Sounds brilliant,” Tom said, writing his name, number, and email for her. He slid the paper and pen back to her. “ ‘course you can call anytime you want. Even if it’s nothin’ exciting, it’s always nice to spend time with another person with a passion for the written word.”

[RaeRae]

Rachel Scott

"Sounds brilliant," Rachel watched as he wrote down his information. This could honestly turn out to be a lot of fun! Having a partner in crime so to speak. " 'course you can call any time you want. Even if it's nothin' exciting, it's always nice to spend time with another person with a passion for the written word."

"That it is Tom, that it is." She tilted her head a bit and then pocketed the paper for later. She wouldn't mind spending some more time with him in the future. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and like he had said, it was nice to spend time with someone who was in to the same things you were, even if it wasn't the same area.

Her phone buzzed and she sighed. That meant it was time for her research to be done and her butt to be back at home at her laptop, working on her next article. Had that time really passed so quickly? Rachel smiled again. "I've got to get going, got those deadlines to meet at all. And I have to check out all these books still. But you'll be hearing from me soon Tom, promise." She stood up, gathered up her books and then started over to the check out, giving him a little wave.

OOC: End Scene!