#bergen_county

Soon, Cleo and Connor were plucked up and taken to safety and not told why. The adults were very concerned, but it only lasts a few hours and the childlings have a good time

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It takes a while for Symon to meet up with the Chief, who reaches the designated meeting spot in advance. Yes, he is late, but in his defense, it looks like he was hustling. How does she remember EVERY tree? He ponders as he catches his breath.

Brekke is standing at the side of the hot springs, looking down into them. She doesn't hear Symon approach right away.

He raises a brow, he wasn't familiar with this area. That's disconcerting, a bit. The water sadly doesn't look hot enough to burn or scald. He slips a shoe off and dips a toe in - a long, too long, somewhat unnerving toe - into the water curiously.

She looks at him as he reaches a toe into the water, then looks back into the dark reflections there. "Thank you for being here. You have heard of the shootings, yes? And that the shooter has been captured?"

A slow nod. "Yeah. I knew you'd be on top of things." The 'you' doesn't seem to be directed at Brekke personally, more of a general statement of the lodge. "I just stayed out of the way." Sensibly.

She nods, silently agreeing with the sensibility of that tactic. "The shooter. He did it simply to be noticed. He has no remorse." Her voice is a low grumble.

"Course he did. Of course he doesn't." Disgusted. He might have an aesthetic appreciation of some killers, the Jack the Rippers and John Wayne Gaceys, the Dahmers and Geins and Bundys... anyone fascinated with the art of death might, but that stops short of actual approval.

"He was in a tree, aiming at children in a pool, when Frank and I got him." Almost talking to herself.

Then she clears her throat. "Symon...I am not equipped to be a creature of nightmare."

He leans over, looking at the water, thinking. His eyes are shadowed by his drooping bangs, and hard to tell his expression.

"He could be punished. Oh yeah. There's a lot we can do with him. Physical. Mental. Psychological..."

Still thinking.

"He wanted to be known, is that it?" Following a train of thought. "What if his name was... taken away? Forgotten? Until no one knows who he is?"

She puts up a hand. "I...do not want to know. I..." she pauses. "I trust you to know your craft. I have done my part of the task. He is captured. What happens next is not for me to say. But, I have a thing to give you. It is not a direction nor a request. Use it or do not. It is your choice." She offers him a folded cloth.

He pulls gloves out of his pocket, thin surgical style, and takes what is offered in protected hands. "Why do you think you don't have a say? He came onto YOUR land and killed people - killed KIDS, in your barony. I know Sir Frank is the Liam, but it's gotta hit you too."

A brow. "It does 'hit' me. Which is why I leave it to those more adept to know what and when and how." The cloth, if he unwraps it, has a clear and very fresh blood stain.

"And you don't have any opinion on how he should be punished?"

Asking a question, or maybe a question behind the question.

"I have no request for how he should be punished," she clarifies. Then after a pause, "If the world were to forget the name of Michael Emerson Smith, I would not oppose that. Of course, others might hunt for further punishment," she says with a pointed look before turning her gaze back to the water. "But I have no specific request. Do what you will, even if your will is to do nothing with this."

"If you want a hunter, you'd have been better to talk to Dirk." He points out, even as he carefully folds the cloth, stain inward, not touching it.

She looks at him again. "Not quite what I meant." Then she steps back from the hot spring. "That is all."

Their meeting is, apparently, done.

The item she gave him has disappeared, no sign it was ever there. "I see. Well, glad we didn't have this chat, then."

A brief, not-quite-amused sound and a nod. "I return to the Lodge. Bid your family hello for me." She turns to go.

He nods, letting her leave. Alone, he sticks his feet into the water and stays for a time, thinking.

He can hear her heavy pace get further and further away as she departs, and he is alone.

((Scene?))

(Scene)

At the Ironhawk house, news of the capture is a relief.