Question and Answer

Who: Gabe and Oz
Where: Phoneland
When: Afternoon

Gabe had read the anonymous note over and over again all week. Eventually, he re-typed it and saved it on his computer, afraid he might ruin the only copy he had, though he was careful to keep it in a safe place. He just couldn't decide if he should try contacting the guy, since he did have an abundance of friends willing to help him-- more friends than he wanted, even. But not one of them was cursed like he was, and so he finally worked up the nerve to call the number on the flier. He was taking a risk, and he knew that, but he thought he could ask the right questions to make sure he had the right guy before giving too much of himself away first. As the phone rang, Gabe's foot tapped nervously, hoping he wouldn't get voice mail. He hadn't planned on leaving a message.

Oz had to take a second before he recognized the tracefone's ring. When he did catch on, though, he scrambled to get it and he answered, walking for the door already, so he could have a larger area to pace. He always paced when he was agitated, and he was now. But then he'd been on edge for a while now. It was simply more pronounced ever since the paper that day. "Hello?" he answered, shutting the front door behind him as he started down the porch steps, figuring he could just...walk around the yard.

"Hi," Gabe said, and the words he had planned seemed to disappear all at once. "This is-- um. I'm looking for someone who left a package on my doorstep." While vague, it didn't give away who he was if this wasn't the number he should be calling. Nate had said not to call, to be careful, but Nate hadn't known about the package. Someone out there was trying to help him, and this was the only number he'd been able to find that was offering help. If it was a trap, then he wasn't going to give away any more about himself than he had to.

It was the kid. Gabe. Or, at least, he thought so. Though it wasn't like that information would really be good unless someone had already killed him, and had known about things...he didn't think it was a prank. Still, he did need to be careful too, even if his first instinct was to immediately leap at the chance to say something and get together or whatever. "You've called the right place." he answered instead of rushing forward through things.

With an answer like that, Gabe realized they both had to be careful, and he wondered what he could say that would make things easier. Nothing immediately came to mind. "Okay," Gabe said, nodding to himself. "I wanted to thank you for... for everything. Your notes, and the book, and... It's been a really big help. I knew people that knew stuff, but no one that was in my position, so... thanks." Wow, this was a lot more awkward than he thought it would be, but he knew half that was due to the precautions they both had to take. There were hunters out there that would love to put a bullet in their brain. Being careful never hurt.

"You're welcome. There's...a lot that just people don't know unless they've been through it." Oz said. Which was pure truth, there. He could explain all day to people around him what it was like, or how he arrived at the decisions he arrived at, or explain odd behavior by trying to come up with terms people would understand, but at the end of the day, no one got it like someone who'd already been there. He'd often wished when he was younger that there was someone else around to talk to.

Gabe nodded, thinking of his little chat with Drea. She'd been helpful, but... everything was normal to her. She didn't know how things were changing, since they'd always been that way. And no one else had had first hand advice on how to handle the full moons, other than that he needed a cage. "This is Gabe, by the way," he said, deciding he had to risk it. One of them had to. "Would you... for my peace of mind... tell me how you found me?" That was bothering him more than anything else.

That was a great question, and he didn't quite know how to answer it. "I was looking for ways to help...an aquaintance has better access to records than I do." Oz said, since that was as close to the truth as he could get, plus it sounded more reassuring than 'got it from a random guy I met at a diner'. "And you can call me Oz." he added. Which really, wasn't that trackable. Especially considering his name wasn't actually Oz. "I've impressed the fact that you've got enough issues to deal with right now though...the information isn't going to go any farther." He hoped.

While that wasn't really an answer, Gabe figured it meant his acquaintance found him through hospital records, which also had to have taken a bit of guesswork. He knew for a fact that there was nothing written that said he'd been attacked, so he just had to hope that a hunter didn't think to do the same. "Yeah," Gabe said, running his fingers through his hair. Enough issues was pretty damn accurate. "I've got a funeral to go to in about an hour... Is there any chance we could meet up sometime? I have some questions about cages and tranquilizers and-- I guess those are the two things that I'd feel safest figuring out first, but I don't really know how to start."

"Yeah, sometime soon, probably." Oz said. He winced about the funeral. "Sorry to hear you've lost someone." he added sympathetically, since he knew what that was like all too well. "Cages...that needs taking care of right away...you got a basement?" he asked. "...and possibly a family that knows the score right now?" Since that helped. Building cages in basements was pretty obvious, everyone needed to be on board.

"I've got a basement," Gabe said, thinking that the basement at home would be far better than the one at the morgue now that ghosts had taken over that space. While he hoped they'd start to clear out or something, he was now thinking that home would be better for a number of reasons, the primary one being that it felt safe. "My mom knows. I'd say she's aware of supernatural stuff, but not completely in the know. Like, I didn't have to convince her or anything about what happened, but she doesn't really know any more than I do about how to handle it. So I'm passing information to her as well." He couldn't imagine how poorly this would have gone if it had been his dad instead.

"Okay, well, hire a private contractor to put one in. If you want, I can give you a number...guy named Billy Gardiner. He put mine in. He doesn't ask questions." Oz said. Billy very much didn't ask questions. Plus, he'd put a cage in anywhere either of them lived for a long while now. He was probably the best cage builder around. And likely the only one. "Tranqs, that'll be harder to come by. Got any connections at the hospital, or think you can make some? I might have some that you could have, but...I think they're kind of old by now, so probably out dated. You'd need something a little more up to date." he admitted, wishing he could be of more use that way. Then he wondered about Doc. Maybe he could get the kid something.

"Billy Gardiner," Gabe said as he scribbled the name down. That was definitely a huge help. If he could get Billy to build the cage, then he and Charlotte wouldn't have to bust their brains figuring that part out. Or even Kavin. Much help as his friends were, he didn't think any of them had built cages big enough to hold werewolves, if they'd ever built a cage at all. "My mom used to be a nurse, but I don't think she can get stuff anymore," Gabe said, thinking that through. Seeing as how she worked with dead bodies, people would worry if she started buying tranquilizers. "I have a friend who's mom is a vet," he said. "Um. I might have to work on this one. My dad's a doctor, but he lives out of state and wouldn't believe what happened even if he'd been here to witness it."

"Most people wouldn't." Oz said with a sigh. "Try and figure it out, if you can't, get back to me and I'll see about something else. I might know someone who can help, but I don't know them all that well, so..." he trailed off, figuring Gabe could fill in that blank on his own. He was still pacing around and stopped at the low wall in the back yard, brushing snow off of it to lean against it. "Got any questions?" he asked. Since he could answer them right now, if there was anything pressing.

"I'll get back to you on that one. The cage was more important," Gabe said. Tranquilizers were only a problem if he lost his temper, or got hurt, or felt trapped. Hopefully those were things he could avoid altogether. "Um, yeah," Gabe said, hopping up on the kitchen counter, his socked feet swinging back and forth. "You said no biting, even in human form. I don't bite people, but does this mean it's transferred through saliva? Is... is kissing going to be a problem?" He wasn't sure how, but he managed to turn beet red at the question and now he was glad this was over the phone. It'd been something that'd been bothering him, but he hadn't had time to read the entire book yet and it seemed the most urgent of all his personal question. He didn't want to accientally kiss someone and make them a werewolf too.

Oz actually smiled at that. "If it was, my wife's been really holding out on me." he said. "No, kissing's fine. And I don't know if it's saliva. Might just be...mystical, where there isn't really a scientific explanation." he explained. "It's got to be a bite, you've got to break the skin." he confirmed for the kid, and he was thinking this here was part of why he'd wanted to help in the first place. Books didn't always answer those kinds of questions. People were writing about the horrors of being a cursed werewolf, not what it meant to exist as one.

"Okay, good," Gabe said with a very relieved little laugh. "I just didn't want to, you know, accidentally put someone in my shoes." He knew that would be the biggest turn off, if he couldn't kiss a girl without getting her infected. Gabe hadn't realized how much that had been worrying him till he felt the weight off his shoulders. "So, this is kind of an odd one, but I play hockey. It's kind of what I do. I love it. But it's a rough sport. I don't usually take a lot of damage, but it should still be safe to play, right? Long as I don't get into fist-fights on the ice?" He would have to watch that, but Gabe wanted to make sure that just the game itself wouldn't do any harm.

Oz hesitated on that. "actually...." he stared. "I can't tell you what to do. But I wouldn't take the risk. It is a rough sport, and you get checked into the boards too many times, and you never know. Plus, adrenaline's already flowing, I don't know what kind of a player you are, but if things are already pissing you off about the game, emotions and exhertion running high...it's not a good combination." he said with reluctance in his tone. He didn't really want to tell this kid he couldn't play something he loved, but...well. It was a risk. Like football would be pretty far outside the realm of goodness too. "Taking damage isn't just fist fight stuff. It can be anything. Hell, if you got into a car accident, it could trigger a shift. It's not the type of harm coming to you that triggers anything, it's the harm itself. ...think of it like a really really out of control defense mechanism. And one you definitely don't want to set off."

Well, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Gabe's feet stopped kicked and he resisted the urge to go into his room and pout. He didn't like the answer, but it was an honest answer, which was what he needed. This probably meant going to college on a hockey scholarship would be out of the question. He told himself that was okay, cause he didn't want to play it for life, but it was still a huge disappointment. "I'm out right now anyways, cause of my stitches," he said, realizing he didn't even know how long that would keep him out of the game. If he couldn't swing the stick, he couldn't very well play. "I guess I can still play with friends. I'll see how the season goes. It's high school, so we're not losing teeth or anything, but... yeah." Anything could happen, like Oz said. Triggering a shift on the ice would be some kind of bad news. "Um, the senses. I'll get used to that, right?"

"...I still say that you should back out, but...like I said, I can't make you do anything. Next time, just...go to a game where you aren't playing, and look at all the people there. Then imagine what it'll look like if a good half of them are dead." Oz said, voice not anywhere nearing harsh, because he didn't want to be harsh. He just wanted to impress upon Gabe the gravity of the situation, which he could understand the guy not getting yet. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to accept. "Then decide if you think it's worth the risk." he added. "The senses you will get used to. It'll take a while, but you can pretty much get used to anything if you have it long enough. And they don't shut off, so...I figure you'll be getting a lot of headaches, from all of it. Hearing too much, scents that become overpowering where as before they were just strong, that kind of thing. One thing I know you'll probably have to get used to is hearing all the shit people don't think anyone'll hear them say. Whispers in the hall, things like that." he said. It was one of the worst parts of highschool for him. Just...hearing all the things people said after you walked by. Highschool was a brutal environment, all things considered, and teenagers were flat out mean a lot of the time. It was something most people wouldn't ever consider, what it might be like to know everything that went through people's heads and they snickered behind their hands over. But it would be there.

That was certainly a chilling thought, and one he'd have to get used to. Maybe he'd just have to tell the coach he was out for the season and restrict himself to playing hockey with friends. Friends that carried tranquilizers. At least he could still skate. There was nothing wrong with being on the ice; it was the game that was the problem. "Yeah, walls are thin. People are... loud," Gabe said. He hadn't experienced a lot of it about himself lately, unless it was due to Chrissy's death. He knew it could be bad, though, and it was something he was going to have to get used to. It would definitely make him more aware of what he said when he thought no one was listening. "Your recommendation for earplugs was probably the first one I put to use," he said with a little smile. "That's really all I've got right now, but it's only been a week. I know I'll have more. You sure you don't mind me calling?"

"I don't mind at all." Oz said genuinely. "I know what it's like, so...I'd like to be available for you just in case. Plus, again...the books don't cover everything. And I can give you a better idea of what things actually mean, like with hearing shit you're not exactly happy about hearing. They'll tell you that you've got heightened senses, but not what that means in the real world. I'd avoid the locker room if you don't want to knock yourself flat from all the smells in there, too. Or at least wait til people have cleared out a little..."

"Ew," Gabe cringed, glad he hadn't accidentally experienced that one for himself. He hadn't been in the locker room since being bitten and that would have been a horrible way to return. He could easily imagine how the smell would be overwhelming, since just about everything was right now. If he could manage it, he preferred to be outside, or have a window open. Somewhere where the air was fresh. "Thanks for the advice. I'll keep that in mind," Gabe said, catching sight of the clock. He needed to go or he was going to be late to the funeral. "I've gotta go, but I'm sure I'll call back. And I'll call Billy tomorrow and see if he can set something up."

"Right...again, sorry for your loss. And if you need anything, let me know. Or if you have any other questions..." Oz said. "Talk to you some other time." he would leave it there, and if Gabe called him again sometime, then he'd answer the call.