#elsewhere

For Frank? An End to the holidays means a restart on his journey's on the road. It's not a short haul, but ironically, he has a good place to stop when he reaches his goal. He's supposed to drop off in Ottumwa, which is only a few miles from the Farmhold!

If his schedule allows, he will stop by; over-the-road trucking means time is money and downtime is a loss. Still, money isn't everything.

It would give him a place to sleep for the night before returning. Of course, wouldn't be the first time he slept in the truck.

No Eshu fall out of the sky. He has time to ponder how things are going at home. Siv got into a sulky mood for some reason but hard to tell what. His wife and Vali have by now, told him of a new sidhe who he hasn't met. Of course, folks are having a hard time remembering Frank is no longer Mountain, quite a few call him that by habit.

He corrects them mildly; it doesn't really bother him. Change takes time.

Storm, Mountain, and Hearth have things under control.

So, if he's got time in the schedule (mandatory rest, after all) he'll stop by the Farmhold.

Of course, Kerri made him some food to take with him, and one gift he's got is a little 'keep it warm' bag that works pretty well. He can shave time easily if he wants. Of course, every now and then, one does get a weight station that's actually open. Rare, half the time or more they're just pushing folks through.

Frank's used to this.

He pulls over to get weighed. He sees others ahead of him champing at the bit to get a move on

(Perception plus Kenning for Frank, or best guess)

/roll 7

((well hell))

Frank can feel it, not glamour, but the lack of it, the opposite! One of the officials here moves about, stopping folks, inspecting... and he's colder than a winter without a Chrisstmas. An Autumn person is here, and unless frank is very lucky, that's the guy who is about to head towards him and his rig!

First - he does not panic. He reaches into the glove compartment and takes out a small, cloth-wrapped packet that he is able to hold in his hand. All his paperwork is straight, logs and invoices complete and matching his rig's load. Even the interior of his cab is squared away. He takes a deep breath and waits, ready.

The figure comes up, Mister Knowling says his tag, he frowns, "Independent?"

"Yes, sir." Frank offers his paperwork.

The cloth packet rests in his lap, out of sight.

The cold of the man is stinging "I look forward to the day we replace your profession with robots. Less hassle for me. Less complaints from your peers" The banality pulses like a freezer door being opened and shut and opened again

Frank says nothing, trying to keep his breathing and reactions calm.

He feels a bit dizzy... as the man takes his time, then says "Cutting the weight close this ride. You're not picking up anything else in route?"

"No sir."

(Roll Frank's Glamour rating, please)

/roll 7

((Guessing, but he Lives in a healthy Freehold....))

"If only I were allowed to use a polygraph" He says but finally hands things back, checked and confirmed

"Thank you Sir."

Frank feels... well, numbish. This is a job. Just a job. Why would anyone have joy in duty honorably performed that's... silly? No.. no it's not silly, but he's having a hard time remembering that

The Autumn person scowls, then moves on to torment the next person, Frank has the all clear to drive off

He's pretty sure he can't handle another encounter with an Autumn person that cold and remember who he is.

Frank gets in gear and drives away, fumbling for the cloth packet. It's important. The most important, almost.

He lifts it and inhales.....

The scent strengthens him, a little, and he drives on. It's almost too easy to just 'drive' and not think or feel about it.

With one hand, but safely (!) he unwraps the bundle and eats the little morsel inside; embued with Galmour as an emrgency measure, the maple syrup candy square he and Brekke made together strengthens him. They tapped the tree, gathered sap, boiled it down, and made the candy. Glamour from both of them is included; Glamour, and love.

The warmth is a soul saver. Of course, banality lingers, but nto nearly so badly

A breath.... yes, the Farmhold would be a wise
choice.

CB chatter is light, but sometimes lively. Seems someone IS talking about a pompous ass at that weighstation he left

Frank files the name away for future referrence. If he's going to make this run again, it might need dealing with. Still, eyes on the goal; Farmhold.

Does he do the drop off first?

Of course.

That goes smoothly enough, at least no damn AUtumn person there. It is a full load so it takes a bit, folks are a bit understaffed there, for which tye apologize.

"All good. You boys take your time. Can I grab coffee?"

"Sure thing, we got a machine won't kill you over on the counter" A few chuckles aat the 'won't kill ' you

"Thanks." and gets a cup, despite the hour.

He gets a cup, it's black, bitter, hot.

He drinks it anyway.

And, the guys have finished, thanking him for his patience