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 Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 9:13 pm
rejam Text to Obadiah Thompson: Why?
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Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 9:28 pm
A smoke on the way steadied his nerves enough to make the next text easier even though he now had one hand occupied by a cigarette. lizbot rejam Text to Graham Peasly: Upcoming mission deployment, looking for info/advice.
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Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 9:31 pm
rejam Text to Obadiah Thompson: Come by tomorrow.
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Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 9:55 pm
He slept very little that night, and when he did it was lightly, unsatisfying, and he wondered not for the first time in his life if it was his body's subconscious efforts to spare him from inevitable nightmares. Wake up, somewhere in the murk between three and four. Run, enfeebled body protesting every screaming step of the way--half the distance he had when he'd first arrived and more exhausted after--and shower and shave before most of the Island is up, force down a can of pears in lieu of a real breakfast in the privacy of an empty room where no one could watch him eat. Don't think. Never think. He hadn't specified a time. Fine. That just meant it was up to Taym. He showed up early, and he didn't send the "on my way" text until he was close to the address and could possibly intercept any attempts to dodge the meeting.
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Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 11:23 pm
The man who answered was long and tall, boney but not to the same extent Taym was, in his mid 20s. He wore a button down flannel and a friendly smile. Holding his hand out, Graham greeted him with a pleasant, "Hey, so what kind of mission has you knocking on doors?"
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Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 11:33 pm
If anything the normal of the situation had him more instantly on his guard than any weirdness or overt tragedy would have. He accepted the handshake warily but with the same surprisingly firm grip he always had. His father had been a businessman. He'd instilled the value of a handshake early, and Taym hadn't forgotten it, not even when the aching weakness in his hands suggested that he ought to. "Deployment to the Sahara," he said, opting for bluntness. "I was told you were the man to ask." Sort of.
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Posted: Wed Feb 19, 2014 11:54 pm
The handshake was returned in kind, and the man opened the door wide to allow Taym entry into a small, parlour. There was a carafe of orange juice sitting at a small table, along with a tray of very precisely sliced fruit. "Take a seat, sorry if the place is a bit of mess." It wasn't. "So, Sahara? Yeah I'll be going back probably after your stint. it's actually not as rumors say. Some people have bad runs, but those can happen anywhere, right?"
He picked up a small, shining silver fork and very precisely stabbed it into an apple slice. "Hope you don't mind, you caught me at breakfast." He took a small bite, and chewed it with slow thoroughness. "I lost my last partner, you know? It's why they have me taking an extended break, to recover emotionally." A sad smile, "Mostly its just boring, though. Bring a good book, or hell, supplies to write your own while you're out there."
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 12:17 am
He tried to look at everything without making it obvious that he was, eyes lingering on the food but not on the way it was eaten, averted as though he were watching someone do something taboo. Somehow the word "boring" planted more fear in the pit of his stomach (hungry, starving) than the Tavishes had. "Lots of downtime, then." And a death. And every other awful thing. He thought about the Amazon outpost and very nearly asked if he could have a bite, but the thought made him feel immediately ill. This was his job. He would do his job. "They've given me literature," he said, "but I felt like it'd be a good idea to get a first-hand perspective. The s**t that people don't write down." Run. Always have an exit. "Have you... have you done a lot, then? That you're already gearing up to go back." He looked OK. He looked... normal. Meticulous, but normal. Coping with the death of a coworker, but normal.
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 2:17 am
"Well," Graham began, taking a tiny slice of banana and carefully smashing into a smooth paste he spread on a slice of strawberry. The barest sprinkle of sugar followed. "I've been going there for a few years. This next will be my tenth, and it's a lot easier out there than it was. Most of Famine is broken, part of the whole Lost Clans refugee thing over on the other side." There was a certain amount of derision as he spoke of what remained. "Prior to the apocalypse we halted, it was much, much more of a killing ground than it is today. Most of the danger lies in the remnants and outliers." Graham continues to eat the fruit in small, dainty bites and sipped at the orange juice. He did not offer any to the other man. "My partner died because he had an open wound. There's plants that'll get into you that way, make you crazy until they finally grow so thick in you there's no more room for life." Another bite, "It was a bad way to go. Make sure to take care with any open wounds, Thompson." Another bite. "Do you have family? Outside of Deus?"
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 9:22 am
Taym was aware on some distant, subconscious level that the way the man was eating was not right, but his forebrain had long since lost the ability to distinguish between what were and were not normal behaviors when it came to food. Take care of open wounds, don't let the sites abscess, Thompson; disinfect and use a fresh. He'd been bad at it, then, but he'd had things clouding his judgment. He considered the question for a long time while his eyes roamed around the room. "I had family," he said, the slightest emphasis on the past tense.
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 1:23 pm
There was a pause as the man chewed a grape slice, eyes going distant. Then he resumed and replied, "That's a shame." Another sip of juice. "Was that all you needed?"
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 1:24 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 2:05 pm
Graham's face grew a bit wistful, "How many lives are worth your own?" He got up before Taym could reply, "I don't need the answer, Thompson. But someday you might. You can let yourself out."
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 2:10 pm
He was on his feet instantly and his hand shot out to try and close around Graham's arm. "No," he said. "You don't get to indulge in melodramatics. Tell me why the ******** you asked."
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Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 2:24 pm
The man looked at the hand, still smiling as he repeated himself, "Do you have family, Thompson?" He looked into Taym's face and there was ruthless calculation in his gaze. This was a Death hunter. This was a veteran of the division that specialized in gathering information. This what not someone who offered intel freely, because in Death there was only one real bottom line: information is power. And you don't just give it away to some a*****e knocking on your door at ******** o'clock in the morning.
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