taxonomites | [Holo] [Arrival] this is the first day of the rest of your life

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[Holo] [Arrival] this is the first day of the rest of your life

[Maybe 20 minutes after Johannes eventually leaves the arrival room]

Another new arrival, as shown by the holographic image being broadcast to the tablets of everyone in Taxon, as usual. However, this man is lying on the floor of the arrival room, tangled up in a blanket, curled half-around a body pillow. He is snoring. And maybe drooling a little.

After twenty seconds or so, the chill of the hard metal floor starts to penetrate the sleeping man's consciousness. He grimaces, shifts around as if trying to get comfortable, and then slowly cracks an eye open.

"Whussat?"

Eyes squeezed shut, unshaven face squinching into a grimace. Man, what the hell... 's cold, and hard, and this is not his bed, he's pretty sure he went to bed in his bed last night, and yeah, he was doing shots pretty heavily, but he's pretty sure he did not drink to the point of passing out on a sidewalk, or... He risks opening his eyes again.

Definitely not the Strip. Not anywhere he knows. Fuzzily, Jeremy Fischer sits up, blanket falling down around his waist, showing that he's not wearing a shirt. He is still clutching the body pillow to him like a protective talisman. The holo shows a man in his probable late thirties, extremely scruffy, with an enormous amount of untamed curly brown hair and a stocky body.

"Uh...." He looks around him at the steel walls, the weird thing overheard, the utter alienness of his current surroundings. He runs a hand over his face, through his shaggy curly hair, and scratches at his head.

"The fuck...?"

Then he starts laughing. "Okay. Nice. Good one, Charlie! Not sure how the hell you got me here without waking me up, but seriously, nice one. Lunch is on me. It might be our last, right?"

There's a few beats of silence. He shivers a little in the coldness of the room and pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, grin slowly fading.

"Charlie?"

***

Sometime later, Jeremy is outside. This is a problem, since he's wearing his underwear, socks, and a blanket wrapped around himself, and it's freaking cold.

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Jeremy hollers at anyone who might listen, trying to avoid the patches of snow on the sidewalk as he looks around the Bazaar for clothes.

Or shoes. Shoes at least would be a great fuckin' start.

eta to add in alternate run-in location of Jeremy at the Bazaar

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"Fortumately, the air here is pretty clean, so you probably don't need breathing equipment. I...actually haven't found a place that sells it." Which is a terribly worrying thought. The chemical components of hers will need recharging soon.

She pays, then politely holds the door for him. As soon as they are both out, she zoos down the street at top speed; she can't imagine he wants to linger in the cold.

"Okay so...pants first, I think. They've got jeans over there. Those should be god against the cold. And they'll be durable." And they are just as soft on the skin a concrete. Snuggly.

"Why would I need...." he lets it go with a shrug.

Metody holding the door for him makes him grin, then grin broader, but he doesn't object to it. He is not really attached to the gender roles of his world. But it's still funny that Tiny Chick is holding it for him.

Still, he has no problems at all following her at top (sock-wearing) speed down the sidewalk. "Blue Jean -- I just met a girl named Blue Jean--"

Except it's Metody, not Blue Jean, but hey. "Hey, listen-- thank you," he say as he quick-steps after her, picking his way along the sidewalk. "You're being amazingly nice to a guy in his underwear!"

"If anyone needs some niceness, it's the guy wandering around in winter weather in nothing but boxers." She grins at him, holding the door to the clothing store. Oh, golly, she hopes this doesn't cost too much; she's spent some time wistfully lingering at the windows, but she's never gone in to see what they actually had to offer.

"So...uh...what size shirt are you? I can look for something while you try on pants."

"Not arguing, sister."

Especially since just the quick trek along the sidewalk has got him shivering once more, teeth chattering.

"Large works. L." Jeremy does not usually wear shirts classy enough to use numbers, okay, not when you can grab T-shirts extremely cheaply at many places in Las Vegas. "Doesn't gotta be fancy, hon, just a T-shirt-- make that sweatshirt, snowwwwww-- and ooh look at all the clothes."

This is motivated by being cold rather than being any sort of clothes-hound. Excepting a few times where Charlie has harangued him into dressing up, Jeremy's wardrobe usually never climbs beyond 'college student', despite the fact that he should have outgrown Converse sneakers and band t-shirts a decade ago.

Hell, if it wasn't so cold he wouldn't really mind being in the city in nothing but his skivvies. But it is cold.

Fortunately though for Metody's bank balance, Jeremy's usual wardrobe is born out of cheapness too, and he's not so distracted right now that he forgets to look at price tags. A hundred-dollar (or whatever the weird symbol is) pair of jeans get tossed back onto the display, and Jeremy's head swivels and homes in on the rack in the back saying CLEARANCE! SALE SALE SALE!

The cashier is giving him the stinkeye at his state of undress; Jeremy offers her a big wave and smile as he snags a pair of battered looking jeans-- checks the size and price-- and drops his blanket to start tugging them on right there between the racks. What are dressing rooms?

They fit, they're marked down to eighteen bucks, he's not complaining.

She peers at him, looking a touch myopic, then wanders deeper into the sales racks. When she emerges, she's holding a light blue t-shirt and a maroon sweatshirt, both plain, both a little large for him.

"Here, try these- they'll look good with your eyes."

And while he's doing that, she'll wander and scoop up some essentials. Socks, he'll need more than one pair of those. Underwear too. And come to think of it, it'd be nice to have more than one pair of those for herself. Washing her clothes in the creek and sitting naked and paranoid as they dried by the fire has become a bit tiresome.

A towel. Oh, man, she should get a towel. That would really improve her quality of life. After that....a pillow.

She ambles back to Jeremy, thoughtful. "What else do you -right, shoes. And toiletries, too."

Jeremy answers Metody's words-that-he-can-take-as-a-compliment-and-therefore-will with a big grin and takes the offered clothes as well. "Thanks!"

The bushy head emerges through first one collar then the other; Jeremy looks around for the pale-haired girl and sees the top of her head just peeking above another rack.

"Shoes. Definitely shoes. Like everything else can be borne, but... shoes."

He sees a wall display with some and migrates that direction. Ohhh man, neon-green Chuck Taylors. Probably too much. He explores other options, flipping the soles up to check the sizes, gratefully taking the socks from Metody.

"I am going to have to something really nice for you. Like, nicer than a coffee-straw crown."

Except he's not sure what he gets a pint-size albino survivalist.

She laughs and clasps her hands together. "Ah! Now you look a little less crazy!"

"Shoes are, like, the most clever invention ev- no, nothing canvas, that just isn't practical. Try the boots. They'll keep your feet dry, and when they wear out, you can make sandals." And that probably reveals more about Metody's financial situation than she'd really be happy with.

"Oh, maybe you should get a scarf, too, or a hat. Something to protect your ears from the wind."

She smiles uncertainly a at the idea of repayment. "You can pay it forward. I'm sure they'll be someone else who needs a little help, soon enough."

"Yeah, I've graduated to Homeless Man: The Not Likely To Pee On Your Car Edition!"

He's really a canvas sneakers kinda dude, but, she's helping him out (and besides that his innate nature is to go along with things, go along with things, go along with things), so he dutifully takes a pair of the boots on display with their thick soles and fake-fur lining and these are probably in his size.

The comment about a hat just makes him grin though, waggling his brows. "And hide this beautiful hair?"

(You're being shy about repayment? He can work with that. He'll bring you plates of cookies. With extra sugar. Although still not anywhere enough for you to actually taste it. But. He tried. Or, uh, will have tried, in Meta-To-Be Land.)

"Oh - that's the next thing I should do. You need a place to stay. There's actually dorms..." somewhere. Where? She'd been so upset the first few nights that she hadn't really been paying attention to what she was doing.

"...I think in the big building. The first one. And I know there's empty buildings, too, or you can take one from the Extras, if you want it, but I didn't really pay attention to how that happens." Being able to get away and indulge in her shameful lack of humanity where no one would stumble on it had come as a painful relief. Her cave was not comfortable, at all, but it was the very first place she'd ever been where she felt safe. Ish.

And even if the Extras weren't real, it seemed wrong to take from them. Weren't they just as deserving of happiness and security as any one of her other possibly-hallucinations?

Jeremy absorbs that, looking back in the direction of the Sanctuary with an uncertain expression (despite them being inside a building and unable to see the Sanctuary from here). The zombie dudes on the ground floor creeped him out. Yeah, it's no doubt just actors in make-up-- really good make-up-- but... ehhnn.

Maybe there's a route to the elevators that doesn't involve going past them or something. Mhm.

"I'll check it out," he promises, tugging the hem of his sweatshirt down a bit. With the armful of sundries they move for the cashier.

His teeth are no longer chattering and his body is no longer goosepimpled; this is a vast improvement. Jeremy keeps his blanket slung over one shoulder, fingers playing with the 'tiara' again and braiding a few links.

"You are currently in my nomination for benevolent goddess, so you know," he says with a bright-eyed look down at Metody. "Do you accept hugs from crazy homeless men?"

Oh, golly, and now she has to give up money. She turns her eyes away from the total. It doesn't actually matter; ashes already committed to it.

"I'd invite you to come stay with me until you get your feet on the ground, but...I, uh, sort of live in a cave. Literally a cave. Its a pretty great cave, but still a cave." And also, he is nice, but still a stranger, and thus dangerous. And this place holds people with bones that look dead, and terrifying demony things, and Metody, so who knows what Jeremy might be, even if he does look human?

"I love hugs, but I smell kind of strange up close, so you might not want to."

It's possible that on a less weird, trippy day Jeremy might step up and refuse to accept her charity; possible, but not certain. He kind of has a history of mooching in some respects. Besides, he's distracted by mention of a cave. And her living in it.

"--I thought you said you could just pick a place to live? Why would you want a cave?" he asks. You are doing nothing to change his mind that you are a fringe survivalist, Metody.

As for hugs, and smells (that he has already noticed but won't bring up):

"Man, whatever," Jeremy says, and takes a discreet breath of Non-Metody air before spreading his arms and engulfing Metody in a friendly bear hug. Whilst holding his breath.

Fortunately, Metody has an answer prepared, and it is just as accurate as her justified fear of people.

"Because its in the forest . And there are trees and plants and dirt and...its been six months since I saw a tree. And there are birds, and rabbits and deer and mice and all these animals running around and in a few months, its going to be spring." She bounces on her types at the very thought. "I'm going to get to see spring".

She sighs happily and returns the hug.

Edited (Feast. Not the right word at all!) 2013-02-22 15:18 (UTC)

Jeremy lifts her titchy little body off the ground in his bear hug for a second, then lets her feet touch the ground again. He steps back ~~and then takes a breath of fresh air.~~

"You're like a living testament to Thumper & Bambi and the Circle of Life," Jeremy offers. "Except with more killin' of God's critters!"

"Aha - ahahaha - " It's breathless, slightly hysterical laughter, because the alternative is crying or screaming. She takes a step back, gasping.

"Oh, golly, I know you meant well, but please don't take my feet off the ground."

Hand on a building. Okay, okay, it's all fine, it was just for the tiniest, tiniest moment and it's over and done with anyway, and he didn't mean anything by it. And now she should say something before it gets even more awkward.

" - my brother calls me Flower. After the skunk."

Jeremy's face falls the instant he registers he's done something wrong.

"Aw-- aw jeez, I'm really sorry," Jeremy says with a wince, running a hand through his hair. "I shoulda asked. No lifting, gotcha. You can slug me if you want."

He blinks, then half-smiles, then laughs. "Well it is a hell of a bouquet."

"It's fine! It's okay!" Oh, no, don't look like that, Jeremy, now she feels guilty. " - it's kind of a strange thing, I know."

She smiles sheepishly, eagerly seizing on this hopefully distracting topic. "Yeah...it's a bit, uh, piquant, I know. But I've lived in Steel City for gosh, about six years now. Can't wash that off."

"Hey, we all got our quirks."

He tilts his head, clear bemusement tinging the reflexive smile he answers her sheepish one. "Steel City? Like... Pittsburgh? I'm in Sin City and I have yet to acquire any long-term traits from that.

"--aside from tattoos. And twenty extra pounds."

"Pittsburgh? I have some friends who live there." Sort of. Ish. Metody has had a great deal of trouble meeting people back home. "I live in Oakland, though."

" - You got a city tattoo?" Oh, goodness. Was he some kind of gambling addict?

"Oakland." Jeremy's face scrunches. "--not Oakland, California?"

The transaction processed, Jeremy's wearing most of the bought clothes and the rest go into a bag he picks up.

"Tattoos I got while in the city," he clarifies. "I wouldn't say they're really tats of the city."

"No, Oakland in Steel City? The neighborhood?"

She's so terribly lost. It feels like she's missed half the conversation. Again. This keeps happening over and over and over...

"Oh - I see! I thought you didn't have a- I mean, I didn't see any. What are they of?"

Jeremy remains genially confused, but shrugs it away with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Guess I'm not familiar with Steel City? Sorry."

There's something slightly off about this whole convo from his end too, yeah. The way Metody says it suggests universal familiarity, but beyond Steel City being a nickname for Pitts, he's never heard of it, and he's lived East Coast and West Coast and he's not ignorant, okay. And even if she lives in like the scummiest part of Detroit, that doesn't make you legit stink, and the way she talks about the tattoos is weird too, and...

There's a lot of weird. Jeremy slots it into the part of his brain currently devoted to Not Thinking Too Hard.

"Oh, uh-- I've got a playing card on this shoulder, kinda sorta," he says, jerking his chin towards his back. "What about you, you got any ink?

"Oh, yeah, everywhere but my face and feet and hands - " She grabs at the stiff collar of her suit and tugs down, but of course she can't get it far enough.

" - well. It's mostly the leaves of the tree of life. This darned thing makes it a bit hard to show you, sorry. But they're beautifully done, I think."

"Leaves of the tree of life?" Jeremy echoes, peering at the few green tips he can barely see peeking above the suit's collar. Don't make a pot joke, don't make a pot joke, don't make a--

"If you're not careful Buffalo Bill might try and smoke your skin."

He picks up the stackful of paid-for clothes. "--why're you wearing that, anyhow? Is that like... uh... body armor, or a fashion statement, or what?"

"I - what? The cowboy...?" Good gosh, what kind of murderous heckhole was he from?

"Oh - sort of? I'm from Steel City?" And, when that fails to elicit understanding, "It's cursed and polluted - the pollution is most of the curse, actually. If you don't wear protective gear when you go outside, the sure can burn out your lungs and burn your skin. Or kill you. I mean, depending on how bad the day is."

"So...breathing equipment and...you know. The smell."

[Holo] [Arrival] this is the first day of the rest of your life

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