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 Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2015 9:45 am
shelving
"Yup!" He looked for all the world pleased about the connection to a possibly drug-using always hungry infamous scaredy cat from the 70's.
"Ooo, ya got fancy stuff," Dawson joked as he stepped away to go find his tool box. "Well I gotcha covered, pal, don'tcha worry!" It wasn't hard to find his toolbox, it laid out in the open like all of his possessions did at the moment. He returned and jiggled it a little eagerly, the sound of clinking metal like a dinner bel to him. "How's 'bout I take a look at watcha got n' we go from there? I ain't got nothin' better ta do anyways."
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Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2015 9:51 am
more color please
Dawson bounced on his heels with a bright expression. "Customizin's always fun..." He could already picture the walls now: every basement dweller allowed the chance to put whatever they wanted on their door and surrounding area, abstract shapes and doodled faces, flowers and color stripes, awesome graffiti....and probably hours spent removing unwanted painted dicks. Beautiful.
"Here, I can go look n' see what we got," he offered. "Moon's got a shitton've different tools fer the job. Maybe see if Murika's got tools she can spare from town...I got plenty a'leave still fer the rest we don't got. But, uh...wait."
He frowned a little thoughtfully.
"Shouldn't we ask someone fer permission ta do this?"
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Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2015 9:55 am
throne
He was all shifty eyes and nervous hands at the mere mention. The half-eaten turkey and cheese sandwich in his grasp trembled ever so slightly.
"Iunno, Horace, that s**t's got creepy vibes," Dawson mumbled. "Maybe we ain't supposed ta mess with it."
Or perhaps this is the chance to learn more, Syntyche purred in his ear.
He grimaced and took another bite, looking worried as he chewed and swallowed. "I-I mean, if yer gonna go anyway, might as well go with ya, but...Nnnnn...." He chowed on the rest of his sandwich reluctantly, hoping the pitiful sight might put Horace off.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2015 1:08 pm
shelving
Well, Horace decided, Dawson did sort of seem like a 'saggy' type. It wasn't bad and there were definitely aspects of his down-home nature that Horace appreciated. He was Southern style of comfort, maybe.
"Only the fanciest for me," he joked. And, Dawson, you're the best! I'm in room 38."
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2015 1:15 pm
more color, please
"Maybe I shoulda been a moon," he hmmed thoughtfully. But, already, his mind was floating with colorful ideas. Maybe he'd paint, oh, a mountain scene on his wall. Or, at very least, make it a bright color.
At Dawson's question, he paused. "D'you really think they care? There's weird stains everywhere." He frowned and hooked his thumbs in his pockets.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2015 1:21 pm
throne"Yep!" he said, all good cheer and determination. "Going anyway, though the Doctor doesn't understand why I wish to go." He looked a little sheepish for interupting Dawson's lunch, though. "But, uh, if you still want to, we can wait until you finish your sandwich?"
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Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2015 11:07 pm
shelving
"Aww, it ain't a thing fer a friend..." Dawson tried to shrug off the praise and failed miserably judging by the spring in his step as they made their way over.
Yer the lucky one, man," he said. "Closer ya are to #1, less likely ya got stuff like leaking n' stuff. I heard Murka n' her friend did some work t'stop the place from fillin' up like a bathtub, but, well..." Dawson trailed away uncertainly. He didn't doubt their work so much as he feared the tenacity the basement would fight back with to retain its "shittiest place to room" trophy.
He tugged at his cap and willed the Bad Thoughts away. "Ya got a lotta books then? Nerrrrrrrd."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 12:27 am
throne
He looked mildly distressed at the mention of Dr. H as he ate and indeed made Horace wait until he finished his sandwich off. And brushed the crumbs out of his quickly growing beard. And wiped his hands on his pants.
"If the doc says it's weird, that definitely ain't a good sign," Dawson said with a little sigh, because he knew it didn't matter. No way was he letting Horace go by himself, instincts to go hide under the sheets be damned. "C'mon, lead the way n' just...s**t, let's just be quick, yeah?"
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 12:34 am
more color, please
He shrugged. It made sense to him that there was always someone else to report to, that was just how things have always worked. "Y'totally should come join in," Dawson said with a hopeful smile, like it was a real possibility if he worked his expert diplomatic skills. "Ain't gotta worry 'bout anythin' 'cept watching out fer people n' fix things if it goes ta hell. They pay ya t'be a hero, man, ain't nothin' better than that!"
Sure, it meant being on the front line and being part of the set of divisions that tended to get more recruits to keep up numbers, but he hadn't been on a real mission yet: all of those threats were still as distant as the horizon, all those facts and insinuations just numbers that flew over his head. It was obvious Dawson in particular was starry-eyed about the job description's positives at any rate, and he was always happy to try and induct more moonbros.
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 12:40 am
steak break
In the common room one day, he finally got the guy during some down time and invited him down for some fresh meat as promised: two New York Strips and one rib eye, coupled with a six pack of beer.
"Cooked it right fer ya?" he asked as he looked up from his plate. Dawson had stabbed his fork into the meat already, juice oozing in a way that he would have called sexy-but-in-a-food-way if it wouldn't have gotten him weird looks, but he refused to eat until he saw Horace was set.
The Semblance of Unity apologies, I was on a small break!
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 7:05 am
more color, please
"Nah, I think I''m best suited for death, maybe." He shrugged and stared at the wall, menatlly catalouging all the different divisions. He didn't want to run experiments, couldn't hit things... he sighed. Maybe he wasn't really suited for spying, but nevertheless, he would try. "I just... I want to know everything, Dawson. And I think death might be best, after all. Though if it's not, I'll see about becoming a moon, like you." He grinned.
"I'll go ask someone about the walls - we'll put this on hold 'til then, ok?" Horace probably wouldn't go ask. It was only walls, after all. And he'd just take the brunt of the displeasure if they didn't like it. They being the mythical higher-ups who hated paint.
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 7:22 am
steak break
Horace sat down and he stared for a second. Then he looked up at Dawson, grinning from eat to ear. "Holy s**t, Dawson, this looks great!" The words were almost a moan. Meticulously, he cut off a piece and ate it.
"Jesus wept. Ok, ok, wow, I owe you, bigtime. This is fantastic! And exactly what I needed." Horace could bake a cake, or a pie, but things like grills and most cooking were kind of ... well, despite following directions, he somehow managed to screw up most cooking.
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 7:27 am
shelving
Horace could feel his face tighten at the mention of America. "I would say 'thanks' to America, but I doubt it would be appreciated." His words were clipped, cool. But Horace softened in the next moment, punching Dawson in the arm.
"Not a nerd! I just like the happy endings books have." He laughed and opened the door. The floor was covered in bits of metal - the afroementioned shelves. The room was still horribly bare; it looked unlived in. A large blotch covered the floor and another one splattered across the wall. And maybe Horace toed a particularly pink book under his bed.
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 7:34 am
pie time or cake crunch? Dawson would find that his cell phone was the recipient of a series of rapidly shot off text messages. Quote: Text To: Dawson pie or cake? Quote: Text To: Dawson if cake - coconut or red velvet or what Quote: Text To: Dawson if pie, straberry or apple Quote: Text To: Dawson cupcakes are an option too Quote: Text To: Dawson oh no don't tell you hate sweet things D;
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 7:59 am
throneHorace felt a slight moment of envy at Dawson's beard. He couldn't really grow one, in fact, what body hair he had was generally quite sparse. Oh well, no lumberjack status for Horace. "YEah, it'll be quick like a fox." He sprinted off down the hallway. Once outside the door, however, he paused, feeling vaguely apprehensive. "Uh... do you wanna do first?" medigel the 'doctor referred to was his weapon, haha. not that dawson would know that xD
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