<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ab/1b/dd/ab1bddea870374f1b6b590f684f4f350.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Miss Lise Kincaid<br/><strong>Player:</strong>NowhereWoman<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Clubhouse<br/><strong>Time:</strong>9 AM<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>tight white shorts (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c2/5f/94/c25f94e296042e9c38714bc31365f81c.jpg); Kinsey Lake t-shirt, nicely worn-in hiking boots<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Helen/Elf/(Evelyn)/open<br/><strong>Action:</strong>Not Quite Santa Claus<br/><br/>Well. That was new, being whipsawed like that between two utterly different questions. At least coming up with answers to both of them gave her a moment to examine the fit of Helen's t-shirt, under the guise of reading the logo.<br/><br/>The first one was easy: "Success means different things to different people- Helen, right?  Sorry, it always takes me a bout a day to get a hold on everyone's names." Total lie. It usually took her maybe half an hour, unless everyone was named Jane, say, in which case keeping them sorted was tough. But being disarming had its uses.  "Probably, I'd have to say that the most successful strategy is to not worry about terms like 'success'," She grinned. "It's a camp, dear, not a competition. Success is having fun and relaxing. However you decide to do it."<br/><br/>Question two was a poser. Kincaid had been asked for a lot of things over the years. Feminine products (of course); birth control (ditto); batteries (duh?); ammunition or other things that go boom (not on your life); prescription pain killers (only if you convince me you<em>really</em>need them); even, once, a sex toy (not unless I get to use it on you). Never a musical instrument.  Why would someone bring something valuable like that to a camp and expose it to the vagaries of weather anyway? And why wasn't Evelyn- which one was she? oh, yes- asking herself? Lise's eyes flicked back and forth, quickly categorizing the two personalities, their surface expressions, at least. She had a pretty good idea who'd be getting tied up in<strong>that</strong>cabin, and who'd be doing the tying.  Always assuming, you know.<br/><br/>"I'm afraid not," she confessed. "The only instrument we have is an old beater guitar buried in my trailer somewhere. NO good way to keep them climate-controlled, you know." Turning to Elf, she nudged her junior. "Gal?  Do you know if that little music shop down in the valley is still there? Fanny's Fiddles, or whatever the heck it is?  Maybe we could arrange a loaner?"<br/><br/>Then she favored Helen with another grin. "It's nice of you to try to help out your friend, hun," she advised, "but another measure of success is allowing other people to carry their own water. Evelyn really should come see me herself about it."<br/>