There was trouble nearby, so I went to save the day.

Summoned by the cries of a damsel in distress.

An outcast, who has been banned from a few events, is being creeperly to a newbie. And someone who I’d brought the hammer down on, called me for backup, mostly subconsciously.

I’d been in bed, reading, getting ready to sleep, but duty calls. So, I get up, throw my clothing back on and I’m out the door.

I get there, and I take up a position to keep an eye on things, and check in with the girl who summoned me. She provides details while we observe.

No negotiations, hardly any discussions… It is not a good start.

His technique is … Just sad.
The need for control is there. Too desperate, too needy.

The newbie seems into it, her more experienced friend seems concerned.

Roughly an hour passes, and #translack has ceased being an option. I tell the friend that it’s time head out, and this manages to get the newbie ready to go.

We head out the back way, walk north to the Co-op car. Along the way, the two of them talk, and the newbie’s attitude quickly changes. She goes from being happy with the activity to regretting it. How much of that is caused by her friend’s disapproval is unclear, how much is caused from coming out of the scene, who knows. It reminds me that there are too many possibilities.

On one hand, this fellow has been banned from a couple of events; on the other hand, I’ve said a few times that I distrust promoters because there are several of them who I don’t think would be welcome at events, unless they were running their own event. It’s a complicated subject.

Either way, it’s a 20 minute drive to get them back someplace safe, then another 30 back to my place.

An hour driving, an hour at the thing. At least two hours past when I’d planned to sleep.

Why do I do these things? What part of me is broken so I’m compelled to do so?


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