It is about 60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Carnation and Oakwood

Horace was with Jeremiah if you want to pull him in

(Your target discovers a cursed object in a thrift shop or estate sale – perhaps an old mirror, music box, or piece of jewelry. Once touched, it begins to slowly drain their life force while granting them minor supernatural abilities. They must find a way to break the curse before it consumes them completely, but the object’s previous victims whisper tempting promises about the power they could gain if they just hold on a little longer.)

Horace still sits at the counter sipping his tea when he responds to Jeremiah’s question with a lift of his shoulder. “I am a truck driver by trade. Logistics specialist is the fancy title, but really I just specialize in getting things from point a to point b,” he responds in his usual flat tone. “I am not very interesting.”

It’s a relatively normal afternoon in the Inkwell coffee House, there is some patrons sitting privately on their own. Horace and Jeremiah sit at the counter. Both having claimed a seat to make an order and perhaps socialize. The service is a bit slow despite it not being very busy, its still acceptable. Something glinting on the counter top catches Horace’s eye beside the napkin dispenser. Someone’s left a rather gaudy ring, it looks like some sort of championship NFL ring but at a glance its hard to tell from where. Such things are often diamond encrusted and worth a pretty penny though.

Jeremiah grins. “Well, interesting is in the eye of the beholder, right? I love what I do, but a lot of people would consider it boring as all hell. I can sometimes see them falling asleep as I talk about it.”

“Oh? What is it that you do?” Horace asks as he makes polite small talk with Jeremiah, but his eye drifts to the ring. He casually looks around though, trying not to make eye contact with anyone but trying to determine whose ring it might be, before shifting his weight back to look at Jeremiah, the shiny kept in his peripheral vision.

“I’m a cybersecurity analyst for a private think-tank in Boston. I have a Ph.D in Computer Science from Caltech.” Jeremiah says. “So, I advise people on advances in security, AI development, and secure software design.”

No one else sits at the bar, there is an old receipt nearby from a previous patron who simply ordered a coffee then left. Maybe they forgot the ring. No ones noticed it except for Horace, it sits unassuming. Horace remains apprehensive of the object, conditioned by the town to treat all things with suspicion. The mark of a true Havenite. It’s then Jeremiah would catch a glance of the ring too, it wasn’t in his vision before but suddenly it is. It’s made itself known to him too.

Horace blinks twice at Jeremiah’s revelation. “Oh,” he says before taking another pull of his fancy ass tea. “That is… very smart. I don’t know the first thing about any of that stuff,” he says, flashing a half smile to Jeremiah. “I just want my technology to work.”

His eyes drift back to the ring for a moment then takes a napkin to cover his hand, reaching out to grab it, carefully.

Horace is destined for more than driving a truck he could run the company, or be a sports star, maybe an actor in movie. Jeremiah uses his vast talents for someone elses benefit. He should be running a company the size of Google. Both men have these creeping realizations bubbling up in the back of their subconscious. Its an unnatural thought, even if they never considered it before, both are just filled with great confidence they need to do more. The first step is obvious, they need to claim the ring. Somehow they just know its the key to the next great step in their life. But there is only one ring and two men with dreams of the future

Jeremiah grins and nods. “That’s how it is for most people, which is fine. And honestly, that’s how I feel about some things, too. Like my motorcycle. I suppose I could learn to fix it easily enough, but I would rather take it to someone who already knows, and just have them make it work.”

Jeremiah lets his eyes drift to where Horace has been looking. “Hm. Is that your ring, Jim?”

Horace looks at the ring like Bilbo looks at the One Ring, contemplating all the futures he could have, or could have had, and fondles it between his fingers, inspecting it. “Mm,” he tells Jeremiah in a non-committal tone. “I found it,” he adds after a moment of inspection.

Even as the question leaves Jeremiah’s mouth, he knows its a mistake because its Jeremiah’s ring isn’t it?. But Horace knows it to be his, he remembers buying it..or did he? It’s fuzzy. It’s his ring because why else would it be there? Neither man can really remember how they got the ring but the wisp of memories start to form in their head that they did in fact purchase it sometime today. Jeremiah knows Horace’s lying, that ring cost at least a hundred dollar bill.

Touching the ring reinforces to Horace just how great he’s destined to be.

Jeremiah smiles. “Just now? It’s a very nice-looking ring. I suppose one of the earlier patrons left it. You should give it to the baristas, in case they come back looking for it. Or I could keep it. I am planning to keep working here for a few more hours, and I could give it to the staff before I leave.”

Horace slips it into his pocket, and says, “Finders keepers.” There is a quick flash of an easy and practiced smile, as if the normally stoic man is trying to disarm Jeremiah with words and looks alone, “It’s very nice ring. I’ll leave it at the police station. Wouldn’t want one of the baristas to steal it.’

Jeremiah nods. “That makes sense to me. It is a nice ring. Maybe I should just call the police, the non-emergency number, and have them come here to get it, so that nothing happens on your way to the station.”

Where someone hair is greying at the temples, the greyness slowly spreads. His pale green eyes lose their luster. He feels fantastic but even in a few short moments his complexion shifts to a few shades paler while he’s holding the ring. Then it’s slipped away in a pocket and the spell on Jeremiah is broken. Clarity returns to the cyber specialist almost immediately and he could likely notice the difference in Horace’s physical appearance and that something is really not right. Of course Horace doesn’t have a clue about the negative effects, he’s got his precious. The world is his.

Where Horace’s hair is greying at the temples, the greyness slowly spreads. His pale green eyes lose their luster. He feels fantastic but even in a few short moments his complexion shifts to a few shades paler while he’s holding the ring. Then it’s slipped away in a pocket and the spell on Jeremiah is broken. Clarity returns to the cyber specialist almost immediately and he could likely notice the difference in Horace’s physical appearance and that something is really not right. Of course Horace doesn’t have a clue about the negative effects, he’s got his precious. The world is his.

“I am quite sure I can take care of myself,” Horace says firmly, that practiced grin faltering just slightly. “Drive slow and run fast remember?” He tries to pivot and change the topic, “So how do you know Tessa?”

Jeremiah looks concerned. “Jim, are you feeling okay? You look pale. Sickly pale, not like… hot girl Casey-pale. You should go to the hospital, or maybe I should call an ambulance. And… I met Tessa on MyHaven. We started talking and got along well, in part because I wasn’t hitting on her, which I think she appreciated.” He pauses. “You really don’t look well, man.”

Every moment that passes sees Horace get a little more gaunt, a little more pale. He feels fantastic of course, unaware of the changes Jeremiah is seeing before his very eyes. He might suffer irreversible damage if Jeremiah can’t do something to snap Horace out of it or get that ring from him. He may just end up watching Horace speed-run life to an early dessication.

“I don’t know Casey, I do have a type though,” Horace says, but pulls his hand back and slides his leather jacket back, hand idly resting back on his knife sheath. He doesn’t draw, just lets his hand sort of rest there, seeing with Jeremiah will do from here. “I try not to hit on women. Maybe I should do that more.”

“It would be nice to have someone to talk to. In time I am sure,” he says self confidently.

Jeremiah stands and approaches the other man. “Listen… if you don’t believe me, check for yourself. Use your phone. Or I can take a picture with mine. Your hair is turning grayer by the second. This is not okay. You might be really sick.” He sees Horace touch a knife and instinctively slips a hand into his pocket for… something. But he doesn’t move closer. Then he looks to the baristas. “Will you please tell him? He looks like twenty years older than he did when he came in.”

“It’s my ring, Deacon,” Horace hisses, letting his calm demenor falter for a moment. “I feel great. Come take it from me if you think it is that much of a threat.”

Jeremiah shakes his head. “I don’t want it. I really don’t. I just don’t think you should have it either. Throw it away. It’s killing you, or will by the looks of it. And please, don’t make this come down to violence. I really would hate that, but I will defend myself if I have to.”

Appealing to the Barista is met with a furrowed brow and a dismissive shake of a head. Only someone watching would really notice. That doesn’t mean there isn’t help to be had, Casey finds herself stepping into the establishment for an afternoon coffee of her own. She heads over to the bar with a carefree attitude only to notice Jeremiah speaking to Horace seriously about throwing away something. She looks from the man to Horace then furrows her brow as well. “Violence? What? Is something happening?”

Horace flicks his eyes to Casey and then back to Jeremiah, muttering, “I found a ring, Jeremiah wants it. He hasn’t given me a good reason to give it to him other than he thinks it is stealing my life, but I feel great.” He hasn’t drawn yet, he does stand though and starts to side shuffle towards the door, probably will have to go past one or both of them if they want to play whack-a-driver.

Jeremiah glances over at Casey. “He found a ring. He put it in his pocket, and since he did, he looks like he’s aged 25 years in the past ten minutes. I want him to get rid of it, but he reached for a knife.”

“Oh shit.” Casey says, the femme has two eyes and can see the rapidly deteriorating state of Horace. She looks to Jeremiah then to check his ability to help, “We have to get it from him or he’ll probably die. Grab him.” her words are more of a request than a command but they are very straight to the point. Do it, or else the other thing happens.

Jeremiah nods. “Okay.”

struggles in Jeremiah’s grasp but is easily over taken in his old age and infirmity. The old man thrashing about, muttering something about The Syndicate but is ultimately subdued leaving him fuming in the cybersecurity analyst’s grasp. The ring is in Horace’s black coat pocket, probably easily grabbed at this point.

Jeremiah calls to Casey, “Can you grab the ring? Coat pocket.” as he tries to keep the man still.

He may feel invincible but the incredible toll Horace has taken from the ring makes him far weaker than even the most basic human and Jeremiah manages to jump on him. Casey is quick to say, “Don’t touch the ring with your skin! We have to get it off him.” she doesn’t help with the tackling. She rips a handful of napkins from the nearest napkin dispenser to act as some level of PPE while she tries to search Horace’s pockets for the ring, but she didn’t see where he put it! “Fuck where is it!” eventually she finds it and rips it out, covering it in the napkins to protect herself too.

In one moment all the wind is taken out of Horace and in the next it’s like he can breathe nice crisp cool air for the first time in a long time. The fog in his mind is dispelled instantly. “Whoa, got it!” the femme says, looking pleased.

Jeremiah gently eases Horace into a seat. “Hold on, Jim. You’ll be alright.” He grabs the man’s teacup and brings it closer. “Just drink some tea and breathe.”

Horace looks at Jeremiah. He looks like he is about to fight more until the ring is gone and then he looks rather embarrassed and goes back to drinking his tea. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, sipping his tea slowly and avoiding eye contact until the corner of one eye twitches and he looks up to the pair, “I apologize.”

The life gradually returns to Horace’s features, none of the damage permanent though it may take some time to feel properly normal again. Casey neatly folds the ring up in the napkins and tucks it away without asking, saying, “I’ll get the Conclave to deal with this.” she looks relieved. Then she smiles at Horace and Jeremiah, “Well I wanted a coffee to wake up but that was pretty exciting.” she doesn’t show any immediate recognition of either man when she says, “I’m Casey by the way..I don’t think we’ve all met?”