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Hallo. Erm. I have...multiple announcements, I suppose. One is that the book club we established months ago, which fell to the wayside when there was an unfortunate incident at the library-

[Murder. It was murder. And she found the body. Let's move on.]

-is going to start up again. I've posted a sheet on the library doors for people to recommend books they would prefer to read and discuss. Secondly, and more importantly, I know that just about everyone has noticed the riddle the Duchess left. Far be it from me to encourage the scurrilous behaviour of questionable individuals, but those of us who have been here for some time know better - when last we were given a riddle, Wonderland was plagued by all manner of unfortunate fictional monsters.

[The late and grieved Mark Meltzer, in all his investigatory influence, has left a lingering effect on his pupil and peer, who appears steadfastly determined to solve this particular puzzle before any more beasties burst forth from the Mansion's belly.

It should be noted, dear listeners, that Evelyn is planted firmly in front of her library niche, where a good portion of the wall has been taken up by papers and notes, some of them a year old and others freshly scribed, a few bits of red string linking facts and events together. Is it the work of a professional archaeologist and researcher, or a manic conspiracy theorist?

You decide.]

I've begun compiling old notes from the last riddle and put them alongside my notes from this one in the event there are connexions. There are a number of hidden words and statements, you see- the...the most evident of these are the bolded letters that form the word "mount," the green letters that spell "closet," lower and upper letters spelling "liar" and "old," et cetera. But there- there is absolutely more to this, more than I thought there was-

[She reaches for two larger pads of paper, one of which has a series of zeroes and ones with text beneath it, the other dots and dashes accompanied by tiny notations that detail the numerological meaning of the number eight.]

There is further hidden text. Holding a finger over the word "true" in the message, there appear ten figures of three dashes and two dots, Morse code for the number eight. Over the word "cost," there are dozens upon dozens of ones and zeroes. It's a binary code!

[If she looks frightfully ecstatic, it's because she loves being smart.]

I've translated it to uncover a hidden poem which may, perhaps, raise more questions than it will answer them, but I should like everyone's input. This is something we have to solve together.

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[ waving a hand. ]

Hold your horses, damn. I'll be there in no time.

[ and as promised, dean's sauntering into the library about five minutes later, all smirks. the situation might be serious, but he can still have a good time. she's partly to blame for it... which gets him to plop right next to her and her pile of notes. ]

Your order has arrived.

[ as in him! look! he's here cc: ]

Lucky me,

[she groans, lolling her head to one side to get a good look at him when he arrives. It is somewhat masochistic of her, she knows, to allow him to be in her presence when she often finds him insufferably frustrating, but sometimes Evelyn thinks she needs a little irritation in her life to remain perfectly sane.

She slides him a folder of notes.]

Try not to play too dumb, Dean, I know you're of reasonable intelligence.

[ she gets one looooong lingering look in return, dean visibly drinking in the sight of her in what he knows to be a borderline dirty, frustrating way. but once he's done with that, his attention shifts to the notes now in front of him, and he sighs.

dramatically. ]

I know I promised to help, but..... [ there's so much of it......

a moment passes and he's leaning a little closer to her. ]

Maybe another compliment will get me rolling with this.

[It's more than borderline. It's downright offensive, qualifies as harassment, and Evelyn has no time to entertain fools.]

Mister Winchester,

[she states primly, lacing her fingers together on the table and fixing him with a look.]

Out of all the Americans that I know in this place, you are positively the best at being obnoxious, and that is a rare gift.

[ it's about as good as he's gonna get, so dean just grins at her "compliment". ]

You forgot and most handsome, but alright, okay, that'll do. Just for that, I'll be sure to shower you with my gift in our Wonderlandtastic days to come.

[ something to look forward to! ]

Anyway, you should quit playin' around, we got work to do, right?

[The grimace she supplies in response is genuine, decidedly not looking forward to future encounters with an ego this size.]

Pot, meet kettle,

[she mumbles, resisting the strong urge to cuff him over the head. Opening the folder in front of him she gives Dean a few moments to look over the hidden poem. When she speaks again, reaching for another book in front of her, her exasperation is palpable.]

You do know I'm married, don't you?

[ dean lets his gaze dribble down the poem slowly, almost as if he's bored -- honestly, he has no idea what it could mean -- and then she's speaking again, with him leaning on one arm a little and cocking a brow.

oh, and the smirk is, as ever, present. ]

Is he here? Mr.Librarian hiding somewhere behind your stack of books?

[ because he sure does have a feeling that dear old husband isn't around. not that dean would ever really help anyone cheat, but she doesn't need to know that. ]

No, he's not here. If he was, you wouldn't be.

[Rick, in all his trigger-happy glory, is at heart a softie who has every intention of protecting his wife and child from villainous curs and sleazy fellows alike. In a fight, she would bet money on Rick - and not just because they've been married for nine years.

The French Foreign Legion, the odd mercenary job and the undead tend to make one a fairly capable individual.

Also, Rick absolutely loses his mind when he's angry.]

Sounds scary.

[ yet dean doesn't seem phased... if only because hitting on her would be an entirely different kind of ball game if there was indeed an angry husband around to be worried about. but there isn't, so.

dean lets his focus drift back to the poem... ]

If he ever shows up, you'll have to introduce us.

[ s m i l e. ]

[Good thing Dean will never know about that affair Evelyn is having with a rumpled criminal profiler, right? Right.]

I'm not as blessed as you and Sam are about acquiring familiar faces from home,

[she says plainly, the slightest hint of bitterness colouring her tone and the first reply that hasn't had the same easy delivery as the rest of their conversation. Evelyn opens a book and discontinues eye contact, flipping through the sheets.]

Did you know my older brother was here once? About two years ago. He disappeared after a couple of months.

[A beat, her fingertips worrying the corner of a page.]

You're very lucky.

Edited 2014-10-16 22:44 (UTC)

[ dean makes a thoughtful sound. ]

Hey, I'll share Sam any day. Just say the word and he'll do his annoying little brother thing. Can keep him for an entire day-- maybe even two.

[ of course, evie, he thinks, wouldn't put up with it for even a minute. or even worse-- sam would behave perfectly well. that brat. ]

Is your brother alive and kicking back home?

[At least Sam knows that when a woman's body language screams piss off, he should go away.]

He is,

[she replies gamely, because to the best of her knowledge Jonathan is still alive. It would take more than a dirigible falling from the sky to even remotely endanger the elder Carnahan sibling's life.]

Ten to one he lives longer than anyone else, he's got a knack for surviving sticky situations. Helped to take care of me when our parents died.

[The matter-of-fact tone is a product of time and distance, the shock and sadness long-since worn away; Evelyn glances sidelong at Dean.]

Isn't that what big brothers do?

[ dean gives one slight shrug of a shoulder. ]

Might be a page out of the handy dandy big brother guide book, sure. [ it is at least from the one dean had read. but he's not about to share those details with her-- that'd be exposing himself too much, and he can't have that. ]

Just be happy he's alive and well, Evie. Even if you don't get to see him. [ dean would rather everyone who is dead back home be alive back there, than here with him.

but anyway, dean's suddenly up at that, only giving the table a quiet tap. ]

But whatever-- this poem's outta my league. I think I'll take my helping out to patrolling for Mirrors.

[ never mind that he just got here. ]

[Evelyn can spot a sore subject a mile away and Dean's is strung up with great lights like the theatres in London, painted red, and underlined several times. Family is best not broached, nor friends - one might think Dean Winchester wanted to keep up a façade careless roguishness for a reason.]

You just got here,

[she points out drily, tapping her pencil on the book.]

Are you getting cold feet about having a sincere conversation with me?

Don't you have a diary where you can jot down all the sincere thoughts and feelings? Don't need me around for that-- and this is pretty bad timing anyway, right? I'm just trying to do my job here.

[ which is apparently now simply going out to keep an eye out for any mirrors. that's all. nothing more to it. ]

I'll keep the Mirrors out, you just do your thing in here.

[ he's out, bye. ]

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