Gilbert Summers
Location: Ville au Camp (Carnival Setup)
Skills: N/A
Gilbert would be a liar if he said that the mention of the name Keystone did not immediately pique his attention. He tried not to let it show on his face, but it very well may have if the person watching was even moderately adept at reading people. Figuring that it was too late to hide his momentary surprise, he addressed the situation directly.
"That is extraordinary." And indeed it was. Add to this the fact that the surname Keystone wasn't exactly a highly common one, so Good Guess wasn't appropriate. As far as he could tell, there were three likely explanations.
One: this Ruthie was being fed information. Management seemed appropriate, considering she had already sent someone to locate Peter's grave. A ploy to further that agenda.
Two: she had received information from another source, be it on the ground espionage or simply listening to the conversations of others. A substantial bluff or cold read, in and of itself a thing of art if handled correctly.
Three, Ruthie was actually speaking to the disembodied spirit of one of their fallen Paradoxes. A test, quick and dirty, might be in order.
"It is forgiven. He might consider it recompense for the three teeth I knocked from his mouth during our initial training day." The truth of it was that he did not. Like every other Paradox, Gilbert started his training by handing him a knife, giving him a speech, and taking him to a militant point in human history where a lesson appropriate to his disposition could be learned. If this was a legitimate power she was demonstrating, then by all means Peter deserved peace. He certainly paid enough for it.
It was at this moment that Gilbert felt a familiar pulling in the direction of the last activated portal in Ville au Camp. It diverted a hair of his attention, if only for a second. He knew that feeling. The Hat was no longer the only Emendator on premises. He looked to Andromeda,
"The Watch has returned. With him anchoring, perhaps we can take a more active role in your theory about Miss Lucas."
James Grady
Location: Ville au Camp (Carnival Setup)
Skills: Animal Empathy
James should have been expecting something along those lines to come from the grunt workers of the time period. He should have expected it from the people in charge, considering the general opinions of the era and the fact that they had very little to keep them in check. Full civil rights were decades away and people had to die for them to be applied. Even then... Well, it was disheartening. He had a flash of primal anger at the man; an understandable reaction that he quickly brought under control. He then heard the words of his friend, Sophia, and felt her hand upon his shoulder. Not everyone in the world was a jackass. There was still hope for mankind yet.
He sighed anyway, feeling dejection at the whole scenario. He just wanted to help these men, maybe learn something about their carnival while he was at it. Far be it for him to let one bigot ruin his day, James put on a more or less positive voice and made the most of the occasion.
"Naw, s'aight. Gots us a educated man, here. That there's the dying utterance of the great Chinese philosopher, Ig-nit Foo!" He nodded his head,
"Yes'm, sure is. Y'all wanna know how he passed?" A quick glance around found a scurry of brown squirrels clustered around a dropped bag of peanuts at a nearby tent.
"I bet they know. Imma ask 'em." The odd antics of the boisterous blackneck seemed to become more confusing as he stepped in the direction of the treebound rodents and began speaking to them.
"Well, how-do there, General Fuzzy! Y'all guys hear what that Racist Asshat been sayin? Ain't pretty, lemme tell ya. Thought y'all oughta know." One of the squirrel's dropped his nut and took a few steps over towards James, coming up onto his hind legs. "Squeak squeak, squeaker squeakery squeakers," he said towards James.
"Well, he been talkin' some powerful unfriendly stuff in my direction, that's f'sho. But then there was somethin' about us keepin' (and I'm quotin' here) 'them muthafuckin' tree rats' away from his business, mmm hmm." The squirrel craned his neck a bit to look passed James before looking back up at him. "Squeak? Squeakers squeak squeaken."
James bent down a little to better speak with the furry woodland creature. With a lowered voice, he confessed,
"I don't like the way he been talkin', and I really wanna give him a scare. You in?" Tilting his head to the side, the squirrel considered what was being asked of him. "Squeak," he said before turning and running back to his group that was still munching down on some peanuts. Seemed they had a bit of a quiet conversation before he came back over to James. "Squeakers squeak squeaky squeakery."
It could be said that there have been less productive conversations between a man and a scurry of squirrels. When the one that he had affectionately referred to as "General Fuzzy" returned, James held out his hand. A quaint human custom, accompanied by the utterance of the word,
"Deal." He nodded, adding,
"Meet me out back of the Kitchen House after, 'k? Gotcha covered." "Squeak, squeakers."
"Yeah, aight..." A thoughtful look passed over James. As much fun as it would be to engage this person in preternatural one-up-man-ship, it wasn't really going to solve anything. It would be funny, but it wouldn't solve a thing. Speaking again to the squirrels, he decided,
"Know what, changed my mind. Imma make good on them Oreos, though. Say y'all owe me a favor, 'k? Follow me." He began to stroll back the way he came. To Sophia, he gave a quick,
"If'n they don't want my help, they can lug them parts they damn selves. Me an' the gang got some shit to do anyhow." 
