taxonomites | ( 004 ♠ ACTION ♠ LOCATION: SANCTUARY

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( 004 ♠ ACTION ♠ LOCATION: SANCTUARY | Closed Log )

Since his arrival, Puck had been mostly keeping to himself. Although he still tossed out the occasional sardonic barb over the Tablet, the disguised faerie had been gliding under the radar. Nobody seemed to care that he was staying in the Sanctuary and, since it seemed far larger than the actual number of people staying there, he sometimes didn't run into anyone aside from the occasional Extra for a day at a time.

That suited him just fine.

Today he was lounging in the Salon, a less busy area than some of the other floors, a pad of paper next to him but nothing written on it but a few idle scribbles. Instead he had his guitar over his lap, plucking idly at the strings with his eyes closed as though he were listening for something.

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"You play?"

The question comes from the doorway, Liz having just walked in. Taxon was still largely unfamiliar to her, and exploring the building she'd arrived in was just one stop on her long list of places to become more acquainted with.

"No," Puck said, his eyes still closed and head leaning back lazily. "I was just pulled into a fucked-up dimension with nothing but the clothes on my back and one possession that just happens to be a guitar, but I don't play. In fact, I've never touched this thing before."

His usual brand of sarcasm was working in full-force today, although he'd already started to get the picture that it didn't work well with this one.

Liz rolls her eyes, expecting as much of him at this point. Some people are just bitter and sarcastic, full of sharp-tongued comments and hardly anything nice to say. That hadn't stopped her from hanging around Michael back home, but of course, that had been due largely in part to the fact that Michael was like Max. Liz had known their secret and had been desperate for Michael's approval. Why was she making such an effort to form a connection with Puck? She didn't have an honest answer to that, but maybe it was a combination of wanting a connection to someone here who was in the same predicament as she and liking challenges.

"I didn't know you brought it with you," she comments, selectively ignoring the rest of what he said. "Most bring buildings, places. Someone even brought a forest, according to the map thing on these tablets. Do you play in a band or just for fun?"

"So that's why some idiot said he brought a hotel room."

As much as Liz had anticipated Puck's acerbic response, neither was he surprised when it failed to send her from the room in a huff. He did have to give her credit: this girl had a rather thick skin.

And maybe that dedication, misplaced and wasted on him though it may have been, deserved at least a little grudging respect. "Ironfright," he replied. "Mostly did live shows."

"One of my best friends back home used to be in a band. They played live, too. Well, Alex made this tape once, but you could hear his dad mowing the lawn in the background, so it was kind of a flop." Liz laughed at the memory, smiling fondly at it, though it felt bittersweet.

She missed Roswell, she missed Alex and Maria, Max and Michael and Isabel, her parents and her teachers. She missed all the opportunities that were before her that were now lost to her. She hated that she was caught up in a different kind of alien drama when she thought she'd done well at separating herself from it and was moving on with her life. And here she was, stuck in Taxon and running the Crashdown, going nowhere beyond waiting for something to happen, hoping they would get out.

"I hate waiting," she lamented. "This place... Don't you wonder how the people who've been here for ages stand it?"

The story about the band enticed the faintest sound of amusement -- the arrogant kind, the 'why do the stupid people even try' kind, but it was a reaction and that was something.

"Not really," Puck lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Every place is basically the same, after a while."

That was a typical answer for him; his cynicism had had centuries to distill, and it showed.

"So that's why you're here?"

"This is where it starts, isn't it?" Liz said, gesturing with one sweep of her hand. "We all arrive here. If there's a door in, there has to be a door out."

She knew that she wouldn't find any answers. She knew that looking was a waste of time, but she was tired of sitting around doing nothing. At least trying would give her some sense of almost accomplishment, like she was doing something to contribute towards the escape efforts. Liz wanted to go home.

"Maybe you shouldn't try to make sense of it," Puck comments idly. "Maybe you'll just drive yourself crazy, trying to find a reason, trying to find a meaning. It's so much easier to just acknowledge that life usually sucks."

"Not doing anything is driving me crazy," Liz lamented, dropping herself into a nearby chair. It was plastic and not comfortable at all, but she didn't feel much like standing, anymore. "Trying is... At least if I try, I'll know I did what I could and won't feel like I could've done something when I just sat idly by, serving mindless natives food they don't even eat half the time."

Puck's fingers still on the guitar strings, making them protest with a slight unhappy twang. "That's your own fault," he said, looking for the first time straight at her; his eyes seemed to burn with intensity.

"Especially in this place, don't complain that you're stuck doing something you don't like. This city runs just fine without any of us here, so you could at least avoid making the rest of us miserable whilst listening to you lament about your chosen lot."

"My fault? I didn't ask to be abducted by aliens!"

Liz glared at Puck, trying hard to keep her temper under control. She was a girl with manners, who was a good judge of character, and-- Good judge of character. If this man was so infuriating, then why was she still hanging around him and making an effort to engage in conversation and establish a more meaningful connection? She wanted friends, she knew this, but she was always such a good judge of character; she'd been right about Valenti and Topolski... Maybe she was right with this gut feeling she had about Puck not being as bad he seemed?

"I don't see you doing anything. You can't tell me you're happy here."

"I meant serving food to mindless natives," Puck said, unfazed by the sudden outburst. "What a boring way to spend your day. You couldn't come up with anything better than that?"

He tilts his head, smirking. "You're pretty high strung for someone who's smiling all the time. Did you stitch that expression on your face?"

"The Crashdown is my parents' pride and joy. We'd be nothing without that place. I can't just let the mindless natives run it. That wouldn't be right. It's mine and came with me, so it's my responsibility."

She hadn't wanted to waitress again. Before she was pulled into Taxon, she'd been scheduled to meet with a state senator and work out an internship. She'd been going places, and to be stuck - in more ways than one - was frustrating. But, she couldn't just let the Crashdown fall apart. It was her home, as well as the thing that ensured she still had one. She owed more to that restaurant than she did to most people she knew.

"I usually have a good reason to smile," she said, pointedly. "And you didn't answer my question."

"What is it with people bringing places?" Puck muttered, though it was largely rhetorical and a bit annoyed. If only because it showed how transient he really was in the world, when people could be abducted with such kinds of places and all he had was his guitar.

"There wasn't a question to answer," he replied. "Two statements, one vaguely phrased as an open inquisitive, does not a question make."

And there he went with the slightly weird language again.

The odd phrasing was not lost on her, but not commented upon as of yet. While she had developed some suspicious tendencies after being brought into the selective circle that was Roswell's very own I Know An Alien Club, she has no reason to be further suspicious of Puck. After all, that could just be the way he grew up speaking, odd as it was. She made a note of it, all the same. She was nothing if not attentive to every little detail. It was what made her so good at subjects like math and science.

"I'll rephrase it, then: Are you happy here?"

A slight indrawn breath, one that should have been easily lost in a room's ambiance except this room was quiet except for the two of them, and as it's literally dragged out of him, Puck responds while glaring daggers at Liz.

"No, I'm not happy here."

...that was interesting, and very unexpected. Liz had been anticipating another dodging of her question with an accompanying insult maybe, but not this; not an answer. Weird.

"I don't think anyone is."

"Then why the hell would you bother to ask?" he snaps, freed from the sudden compulsion to answer since Liz changed back to a statement.

"Because normal people take comfort in confirmation."

It wasn't meant as a jab towards what he really is, for despite twinges of suspicion, Liz had no idea that Puck wasn't exactly human. She sure had a knack for finding those who weren't and attaching herself to them, though; like some sort of non-human bait.

"Normal people are boring and for the most part, incredibly stupid," is Puck's derisive retort. He was about to say something else (probably just as acerbic) when something ~~deus ex machina~~ happened: his stomach growled.

Liz opened her mouth to say that she agreed, that 'normal people' were dull in comparison to others, but closes it. After all, Liz Parker was supposed to be one of those normal citizens with a happy, oridinary life. Not a girl who was shot in the stomach and died, only to be brought back to life by the healing touch of an alien king.

"Someone's hungry."

Thank God for an opportunity for a topic change.

And he actually turns red.

"I am not."

Liz grinned, knowingly. "Your stomach says otherwise."

"Fine, I'm hungry," Puck says waspishly. "So what. I don't feel like getting anything right now."

"Not smart to ignore your stomach, when your body's trying to tell you it needs to be fed."

She debated offering to bring him something from the Crashdown, and maybe she will, but for now, the offer is withheld.

Something seems to trigger within him. "I don't need health advice from a goddamn human," he snaps, slamming his hand down on the guitar belly with a loud thwack to emphasize his point. "Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Human. Just a 'goddamn human'. While that makes her want to question, want to demand to know what he is, she can't bring herself to speak right now without yelling in his face. Liz has been nothing but nice and patient with this man and-- Uhg! Such tone and words reminded her too much of Nasedo and Tess, how they looked down upon her for being a human groupie among a band of aliens.

"Fine!" She shouted, rose to her feet, and promptly exited the Sanctuary. He wanted to be left alone? He got his wish.

Puck watched as she stormed off, one part of him satisfied that he was finally able to get under her skin, finally able to cross that line that on Liz, had seemed nearly unbreakable.

But it felt hollow. Especially when his stomach growled again.

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( 004 ♠ ACTION ♠ LOCATION: SANCTUARY | Closed Log )

[ location: sanctuary ] sorry so short, off to work! will do longer/better tags via e-mail. <3

[ location: sanctuary ] it's okay!

[ location: sanctuary ] i thought i tagged this at work. gdit lj eating my e-mail tags.

[ location: sanctuary ] /spanks lj

[ location: sanctuary ] oh my god e-mail tagging eats all of my tags. so glad i checked to be sure.

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