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 Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 7:31 pm
A text was sent to a certain hobo slash Death Assistant late one morning:Zoobey Text to Mark:I need your help with something; you free?
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 10:55 am
Text to Gale Sup, a Jedi is never free
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 5:27 pm
Gale just stared a Mark's return texts for several as though the latter had started speaking in a different language.
Maybe he was. Mark was definitely from a different world, and maybe a different universe altogether, so maybe what he was speaking was Mark Language, or Markish, which was apparently a very rare and confusing language without really a good or proper translation into regular English. Jedi (Spoiler: Gale had never actually seen Star Wars all the way through and even then he'd fallen asleep with his head in his father's lap during the first twenty minutes of Star Wars: Episode I.) was up there in the same rank as things like Miniskirt Mondays and super magically trained dolphins (or whatever it had been), and Gale had yet to actually deter Mark from said Miniskirt Mondays and super magically trained dolphins; he'd managed to at least segue away from such topics, but something told him Mark would never let it go because Mark was Mark and that was what Mark did.
He never let things go unless it was the bar and then he just ran for it.
With a heavy sigh, Gale dragged himself off of his bed, where he'd been sitting, curled up with a notepad and a pen as he'd jotted down notes. Texting Mark about his current "situation" had been a spur of the moment decision, Gale rationalizing it as necessary, at least at the time he'd pulled out his phone; but now, as he stared blankly at the texts he'd gotten from Mark, he wondered if he'd made a really big mistake.
<< You've made a really big mistake. >>
Thanks for that.
<< Always glad to help. Now that you've made your bed, you have to lie in it, so get up and get dressed and go do be a Jedi. >>
A pause.
<< Whatever that means. >>
Hah! You don't know either.
<< Of course not, I'm from Halloween, how would I know what crazy things you and your kind get up to in the human world? >>
Gale made a noncommittal, disgruntled sort of noise in the back of his throat, but eventually managed to actually drag himself off of his bed. He sloped towards his tiny closet, pulled open the door, and rummaged around for several minutes until he found some of his lesser worn clothes - a pair of black sweatpants and a plain white teeshirt, because he didn't want to take the chance of being forced into doing something ridiculous and ruining his good clothes.
It took him a while after that to actually get out of the house, but eventually Gale did, and he made his way across the training field and the Deus Ex Machina campus at a slow pace, regretting his momentary burst of insanity that had caused him to text Mark in the first place. There were good things about Mark, he supposed; Mark had been the one to give him Ben's old tablet in the first place, and had encouraged him (sort of) to follow in Ben's footsteps in terms of his specialization.
But Mark had also been the one to get thrown out of a window and get Gale stuck in a myriad of unpleasant situations, so maybe the point was moot.
He finally made it to the offices building and spent a long time procrastinating and dawdling by the front door until he summoned the energy to actually go inside; and even then, he dragged his feet childishly, like a little kid who was being forced to go to the dentist.
Just remember why you're here in the first place, Gale told himself. Just remember why you asked for Mark's help in the first place. Mark is the Death Division assistant. He works with Caelius constantly. He knows the ins and outs of everything (almost). He can help you (maybe) get to where you want (hopefully). Just focus on the goal at hand and you'll be fine. Everything will be just fine.
(Maybe if he told himself that enough he'd start to believe it.)
(Jinhai kept laughing at him inside of Gale's head, which Gale was studiously ignoring.)
When he finally reached Mark's office, it was a good forty-five minutes from the time Gale had originally texted him, and he wondered if Mark was even still in and performing his Jedi duties (whatever that meant), or if he had given up and gone back to wherever box he slept in. He sort of hoped it was the latter, but then that would mean he'd have to come back another day, so Gale finally squared his shoulders, took a breath, and knocked on the door to Mark's office.
"Hey, Mark, it's Gale. You still in?"
Are you still in so that I can ask you for help without actually asking the man in charge and maybe I can get my promotion back so I can actually be a specialist again but please don't be "in" in the way that means I have to do something ridiculous for you.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 6:17 pm
The room smelled suspiciously like weed and it was pretty obvious that Mark had managed to procure some of the candy Oz was selling, probably with his wads of hundreds of bills.
He currently was smoking one rolled up entirely with Star Wars (Millennium Falcon) wrapping paper and tissue. The Death assistant exhaled grandly and then just stared at Gale. And continued staring.
"The question is," he finally said taking a dramatically long drag, where all he did was inhale too much and start wheezing and coughing, "am I out or am I in but out?"
Long dramatic pause. More coughing.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 6:39 pm
There was a long, slow stare.
"What."
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 8:39 pm
Mark leaned his head against the table and started to cry, and it definitely wasn't the pretty kind.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 8:56 pm
The look on Gale's face clearly said Why me and was followed by a series of I told you so's and I knew this would happens and then a bunch more Why mes because really, Gale thought, why me?
Awkwardly he reached over and gingerly patted Mark's head, trying not to think about the last time Mark had actually washed his hair.
"Er. Mark. Are you okay?"
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 9:03 pm
As Gale initiated contact, a small nest of roaches emerged from Mark's hair and scattered all directions. He continued to cry and feel sorry for himself, there were some snippets about how he would never find his perfect busty asian girl.
He sniffled loudly, and then coughed just as loud, rolling over to one side miserably.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 9:08 pm
<< Oh, dear. >>
Gale let out a strangled half-squawk at the roaches, which meant that he inhaled some of the smoke currently wafting through the room, coughed, choked, and leapt backwards, stumbling into the desk and nearly toppling it over. Wheezing for breath, and feeling slightly lightheaded, Gale climbed back to his feet.
"You," he gasped out. "Where the bloody hell did you even get this rubbish?"
He smacked Mark across the back of his head.
"Pull yourself together, man."
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 9:19 pm
"I'm worthless." Mark clutched his knees and curled into a fetal position after Gale literally knocked his hat and nest of cockroaches off.
He would remain like this, staring into a distance, eyes wide. "Nobody likes me." This was also whispered loudly. He rocked himself back and forth and made a noise that sounded like the marriage between a crow dying and someone trying to hum Eye of the Tiger sadly.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 9:24 pm
Gale stared for a really long time. But this was mostly due to the fact that, after he'd knocked Mark's hat off, he'd climbed onto the desk in an effort to get away from the cockroaches, so it might have just been his attempt at waiting for them all to disappear.
A long suffering sigh escaped Gale's lips. He was beginning to feel very weird being stuck inside of Mark's office with this claustrophobic, stifling sort of haze in the air.
"Hey," he said, and hopped down from the desk, grabbing Mark's arm and attempting to haul him vertical again. "Get up. You gotta get out of this place, seriously. You're gonna suffocate."
He tried to tug Mark not-so-gently towards the door.
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