z_jay | [Action/Written] - backdated to Nov. 24th early a.m.

[Action/Written] - backdated to Nov. 24th early a.m.

[There was nothing unusual about this morning, or at least what would be considered out of the ordinary according to Luceti. The quiet of the morning has generally been nice, not to hear any latent... sounds of the undead, but... was that gunfire? Keeping his calm he waited and listened to hear if that very distinct rattling would happen again, not necessarily wasteful if you’re putting down a zom, but that had sounded... different from the rifles they had back home.

Sitting up slowly from bed (no need to wake Jack, that he knew of yet) he scooted his way to the edge and grabbed for a crutch before hoisting himself up. Just another ordinary day in Luceti where he’s up ages before Jack and about to grab his clothes for the day. But that’s when things got a bit strange as he observed what “clothes” they had at their disposal.]

Uh. Jack?

[Jack had drifted up into vague wakefulness at the sound of gunfire. Not much more, because living in Abel made one used to those short, controlled bursts of sound, but it was worth being aware of. Patting the bed at his side, he finds no Eugene, but there is the consolation of a Eugene-sized warm spot, which he bundles into and occupies without shame or hesitation. It’s the least he deserves, with the meatheaded wall guards off sniping zoms right at first light.]

_{Whatarethey- nnghmh- idiots. Shooting this early. Send out a bloody runner, y’stupid. . . mmph.}

[... alright, downgrade ‘vague wakefulness’ to ‘practically dreaming.’ There’s still days it takes awhile to remember that they’re not in Abel anymore.]

[A glance over his shoulder had Eugene clamping down on a snort of laughter but it... was also evident that they both still missed their home despite the luxuries here. And they were luxuries indeed as he sorted through the clothing and pulled out a finely-pressed, collared shirt and... were those suspenders? Either this was a practical joke or someone had decided to steal all their clothes and replace them with... suits? The further he sifted through their sparse clothing the more he realized nothing of theirs remained.

Straightening his back a little more he only blamed his recently awake status for this idea being so slow to formulate. Tugging out matching socks from the drawer, he set out a pair of clothes for Jack to wear. The whole process wasn’t difficult and before he knew it he was once more settling into the bed, leaning over Jack from behind to smile and mumble into his ear]

You like those sports bras, huh?

[Just when Jack had been dozing off again, there was Eugene. Finally. Grumbling, he turned and slung his arms around him, doing his best to drag him back to bed. It had to be too early for them to be up. Or for anyone to be shooting zoms. Though apparently it was just early enough for Eugene to be teasing him about his gentle suggestion they avail themselves of one of their fine, able runners. Specifically the one who always brought back women’s support garments like a cat dragging mice into the house.

Slitting an eye open, he blinked up just enough to see Eugene’s face, then burrowed in again, mumbling placidly.]

Mn. Five, is it. Runner Five and the Endless Sports Bras. Third book in the series.

Also five in the morning.

[Bakers had early hours, too. But he wasn’t budging from the current hold that Jack had on him. It was a little alarming how well and how tangled he could get with another human being so effortlessly. Pressing a kiss to his forehead he grinned, patting Jack’s back in a way that might wake him from his dreamy bits of Abel township and their morning routine. Maybe... he had imagined the gunfire after all.]

I’m gonna go get the day started. You’ve got something to wear when you wake up.

[That was the first little tugged-at thread that began to unravel the lazy, unconscious illusion. Clothing, other than the especially horrible or remarkably well-kept, was not generally a topic of conversation at Abel. Certainly there was no cause to point out that one had clothes. Everyone had clothes. Precisely one pair of them. So it was with a mental grumble of Narnia. Right. Still here, that he blinked himself reasonably awake, enough to look at Eugene with some very rumpled confusion.]

. . . when did you go to the clothing shop?

[shrugs but meets Jack’s confusion with amicable amusement, grinning but only because he wasn’t sure who had gone to the clothing shop. They’d gotten some, just to have more than one pair (for washing, right?) but now they’d been given an abundance]

Must have done it in my sleep. Sleepwalking. Somehow.

[Okay, he saw the flaw in that joke straight away, but not before he’d said it.]

I don’t think anyone’s broken in but all our clothes are... different.

What?

[Jack is immediately up at that, wings splaying out at awkward angles as he scrambles for the closet. He’s pulled up short by the collared shirt laid out on the end of the bed, suspenders and all, and looks bewilderedly between it, Eugene, the still-barred door . . . and the wall.]

. . . wait. Did we have brick walls before this?

-------

[Action]

[Clearly, something was off. But after getting dressed, checking the journals, and doing some very brief recon (read: a peek out the door of CH7 is more than enough, thank you), Jack and Eugene are chilling in their somewhat-remodeled digs and plotting future moves. Without too much difficulty, they come to an agreement - to make the CH7 first floor first apartment a designated safe room for all who need a place to crash while the world goes wonky around them. This is also a joint post, so feel free to indicate if you would like to interact with Jack and/or Eugene in the title, and we will respond accordingly!]

[Written]

To whom it may concern, due to strange circumstances, Jack and I are officially declaring CH7, first floor, room one as a safe room. If you’re looking for somewhere to escape the outside world, we still have leftover pie and space to keep a few folks from having to deal with whatever the Malnosso have going on.

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[With the gunfire and less than subtle criminals sneaking about their home leaving Adele more than a little unsettled and feeling quite unsafe in her own home, she packs up what little she feels she needs- gun, shoes, journal, book, bottle of gin, and makes for the one safe place offered to her- Jack and Eugene's. They seemed kind enough and offering a safe haven to the rest of the village. Between what she remembers of the past year of her life and all this flickering around her, pleasant company is more than welcome.

She has enough sense to not come entirely empty handed. She's brought a few canned goods and bread for sandwiches along with her. The bag's slung over her shoulder as she knocks, eyes darting from one side of the hall to the other.]

[Having settled himself near the door the first knock had him opening the door a sliver, enough to peer out and have a look at who might be knocking. Somewhere, this reminded him of Sam's knock-knock jokes and he was hit with a ridiculous amount of sentimentality.

Good thing it wasn't Jack on the other side of this door, however, but a lady. And he wasn't about to leave her lingering outside longer than necessary. Pushing off enough to open the door he hurriedly ushered her inside with an arm, closing the door behind him]

Hey, sorry for the caution. Are you injured?

[If she was, that would need attention right away, and he wasn't about to leave the injured to fend and heal themselves. Maxine would judge him hard for it.]

[She takes a step back as the door opens, eyes flickering from the small crack that Eugene peers through to the rest of the hallway. For the moment it's empty but she would rather not push her luck by hanging about long enough for one of those odd mobsters to make their way inside.]

I am unharmed.

[Lower, a bit rougher than when they last spoke, but this is the girl with the piano and the records all the same. One Adele LeBlanc just...older. Almost thirty, now. She ducks inside and lets the bag she brought swing low to be set on the ground, relaxing a great deal once the door is closed and locked.]

The entire village seems to have gone mad.

Seems a little exciting to me.

[This was a far different pace than the constant fear of the undead. At least here, the bad guys were bad and not undead. Or possibly your friend. Perhaps she'd consider him a little mind-touched but he enjoyed the excitement. And as far as he knew, who wouldn't enjoy gangsters and shoot outs?]

What do you have in that pack there?

[Now that he had a closer look at her, recognition almost set in. But he looked visibly curious]

Hey, wait a minute...

Exciting, worrying- I have issue enough with criminals in my world without being surrounded by them here. Even if the ones in my world are less prone to taking a gun to someone.

[She mutters under her breath and smooths a curl out of her face, blinking over at him at the prick of recognition.]

Food. My revolver, spare ammunition, Gin. The essentials.

[A beat.]

You met me when I was still a teen, yes?

[The problem with that question was the use of still... considering that Eugene hadn't aged and Jack-- Jack hopefully hadn't gotten any younger. But that just wasn't normal. Neither was this. Could it be that they were not only in a time shift around their world, but also within themselves?]

...Okay, we're gonna have to take a step back and explain this still a teen business to me because I really don't get it, no offense.

[Ushering her farther into their apartment he rolled over and guided her to a seat and a place she could set her things down.]

It's something that happens here from time to time.

[She follows along while attempting to order her thoughts before shrugging and offering the most direct explanation possible.]

The Malnosso kidnap the villagers from time to time for the purpose of individual experimentation via shifts. Apparently while I am normally here I am thirty seven- at the beginning of the month I was kidnapped and shifted down to fifteen. We met when you offered pie on the day of the ice storm, yes? And I was...eighteen. I am now twenty eight as I have been gradually aging up every few days or so.

I've been trying to keep track of who knew me before this shift and who I have met while shifted. It's...needlessly complicated.

[Relaxing ever so gradually, Eugene listened to her explanation quietly, though on occasion his brows rose toward his hairline. It was... really unheard of even in his world where the impossible was incredibly real. But the truth could often be stranger than fiction.]

Huh. W-well... It's good to know I'm not losing my mind-- it's something I've had to legitimately worry about, you know.

[Though... the Malnosso were responsible? That seemed like an odd experiment to say the least and he cleared his throat, glancing toward the door]

So this shift is really the result of the Malnosso experimenting on us? I was... expecting something more mad-scientist like. Hospital beds, white gowns, needles, restraints...

This is the least strange thing some of the villagers have endured, at least if what some of the notes I've found are anything to go by.

[It isn't the most informative explanation, but it was honest. Despite her twitching anxiety she did remember liking Eugene's company- it's enough to leave her polite.]

Were I my proper age I would be more informative.

[Grinning softly he nodded, letting the gut-sinking dread that mention of the malnosso's involvement go to the wayside for now.]

Well, proper age or no, you've got friends with me and Jack. Are you hungry? Jack's preparing to head off for this scavenger hunt so it'll be just you and me once he's run off...

I...thank you for that. Truly. [It's not a thought she's overly accustomed to outside of Henri and Remy, even with the memory of all her previous visits. The past few years have simply left her uncertain about a great deal.]

I do not think I remembered to eat anything before I packed up to hide here.

[Just then, as if on cue, a steady rapping sounds at the door. It's followed by Jack's voice, muffled more than it would be by an unreinforced panel, more low and intent than usual.]

Come on. Ben.

[A month of comfort isn't close to enough to blunt the hard-won lessons of two years, and Jack's bag is stuffed with canned food and other small necessities enough to last them a week if they pace themselves. Maybe more.]

Edited 2012-12-09 06:35 (UTC)

Well if you're looking for food you've come to the right--

[Pausing when he heard the rapping on the door he rolled his eyes and sighed fondly upon hearing the passcode. Holding up one finger at Adele, a gesture meant to give him a moment, he rolled his way back to the door. Still, he didn't open it immediately, instead peeking out after undoing the lower lock. Jack sounded impatient, he couldn't pass over this opportunity to--]

What the--

[Opens the door cautiously, wondering what exactly it was Jack was carrying that was that large. Then he heard the jostling sound of canned food and let out a huffed laugh, closing the door behind Jack]

Oi, be polite, we have company.

Ah?

[She quirks a brow and is about to ask more when there was that knock. She flinches at the sound and stares at the door, tense and waiting for something. Anything except the oddly domestic back and forth that seemed to occur.]

Oh, honestly - there is nothing impolite about having a password when there is gunfire outside, it's just- [Jack spots their vaguely-familiar guest as he bundles in and blinks, lowering his bag slowly and running a hand through his hair as he straightens. He's no stranger to that tense, expectant look, and does his best to diffuse it and his own confusion with a small, curious grin.]

. . . I'm sorry, have we met somewhere?

[Taking the brief moment of Jack's distraction to give him a once over in case of injury, Eugene seemed to relax marginally. Separation was hard, but he was trying not to let it get in the way of his ability to function. That and Jack, despite some fatigue, looked unharmed.]

Jack, this is Adele. The Malnosso have done something to her to cause her to age... oddly. Right?

[Raises both his brows in a for of nonverbal communique that Jack shouldn't be cracking age jokes if he knew what was good for him. Though more importantly, he began to peer into the bag to see what he'd retrieved, tugging out cans]

Looks like we've just got some canned vegetables, fresh from the runner. You have a preference, Adele?

That is about the gist of it, yes.

[And far simpler than her own explanation. Eugene you are one of her favorite people right now. She lifts a hand and offers Jack a faint wave.]

It is nice to see you again Jack...and so long as it is not deep fried and smothered in gravy I will eat most anything from a can.

[Oh, goodness. The charming musical girl is unstuck in time? Jack shoots Eugene a brief how-can-you-be-serious look, which sadly does not even budge the serious face, at which point he looks back at Adele with an answering lift of his own hand and appropriately chagrined look.]

Right, sorry about that. It's good to see you too, even in a time of mobsters and canned meat.

[One day he really needed to make poutine, but it was so easy to fall back into old, die-hard habits with foraging for canned foods and making sure nothing was contaminated. Needless to say, they might be left wondering sometimes what to do with the ice box, but it would come back to them soon enough.]

Are you heading out again?

[Turning to Jack, he asked him-- they were fairly stocked up so they wouldn't need to, but if Jack had business he wanted to tend to, he wanted him to know that he should look after that.]

Speaking of mobsters, are they nearby? Were they shooting at you? Either of you?

[Part of him wished Maxine was here so she could look properly the part he had envisioned in his mind-- albeit addled, of course, but it would be fitting.]

I mean, we have the sign on the door that this is a safe room but any opportunistic gangster could feel entitled to change that...

Minus the mobsters it's all but reminiscent of medical school meals. [The laugh she gives is somewhat forced, but it's an attempt at levity at the very least. More than she should be able to manage. Honestly as long as she has her bottle of gin and access to a cushion to sleep on and some water, she'll be fine.]

I had no trouble with them once I entered the building. Most seem content to mill about the plaza or make their way into the bar.

Terrible stress and all, hm?

[Jack smiles to himself as he sets to work bracing the door shut (clearly makeshift as their reinforcements are), looking back up to Eugene with a shake of his head.]

I don't think they were shooting at me, really? But I'll be staying in the flat until nightfall, just to be certain. Good chance to be certain the security measures survived the shift, don't you think?

[Mention of medical school caught his attention, but he busied himself will rolling toward the kitchen, cans in hand. They had left over pie, but there was only so much pie that a man (or two) could stomach without starting to have an extreme dislike for it.]

Let's hope they keep being attracted to the booze. And the security measures are fine so far. I guess Janine's advice came in handy, after all, huh?

[Smiles at Jack as he started twisting open a can. Chicken noodle soup, not a bad choice for being on the run.]

So... medical school. What other things should we know about your mysterious past?

[As far as idle conversation went, he didn't want his guest to be bored! With Jack here, now, at least he wouldn't be distracted with wondering if he's alright.]

Stress, chaos, and calamity.

[She pulls the bottle of gin from her bag and pours herself a shot- remembering enough of politesse to not just swig from the bottle.]

It isn't that mysterious. Youngest of six daughters, one younger brother. Married far too young. Just...divorced. [Another quick shot.] Three months ago.

Ooh. Sorry to hear that.

[Jack winces slightly, reflecting that the drinking is making more sense by the moment. Finishing with bracing the door shut, he gestures for her to follow him to the . . . well, spare room, technically. But he and Eugene have stocked it up fairly well with water and nonperishable food in their short time in Luceti, and even set up a little table station that passes for a kitchenette, provided you didn't need to heat your food or can wait to get to the fire to do that.]

What sort of medicine do you practise?

Wow, that pretty much sums it up.

[Licking his lips he did give her an apologetic look. She was free to admit what she wanted to him, especially regarding her past, but he did feel bad for her regarding the divorce. Still, practicality was better than showing pity-- she struck him as a woman who would prefer no one pity her]

At the risk of sounding rude, I certainly hope that it was better off that way? The divorce, I mean.

Ah, good on Jack for steering the conversation back to hopefully more pleasant things. Inwardly he kicked himself for not doing so sooner but sometimes his curiosity got the best of him.]

[She pulls her bag up onto her shoulder, bottle of Gin tucked away for the moment and a glass in her free hand as she follows along. ]

Word from the less than wise, my friends. When you marry someone make certain they're not gambling, adulterous alcoholic bastards. But...

[She's not sure she's read them right, not really, but she thinks she has.]

I do not think that is a problem you two will be having, yes?

[As soon as she finds an offered chair she settles down and pours herself another glass of gin.]

Mm? Trauma Surgery. The worst of the worst.

I don't imagine so. Thankfully.

[Jack doesn't shrink from the question, glancing at Eugene with a calm sort of certainty (and perhaps, just for a moment, gratitude) as he sets his bag down. Then he starts putting the cans up in their appointed rows, save for the one Eugene's helped himself to. That calls for three mugs and spoons, none too carefully matched, which he brings down for the makeshift breakfast.]

Ah, I see. Still, it's field we're indebted to. Well- heh. Obviously.

[Raising both his brows he seemed to hesitatingly acknowledge the presumption that Adele implied, smiling in a softer, more familiar way than would be appropriate for just friends. Then he cleared his throat and set out to opening the cans he'd taken out to prep for eating]

Trauma surgery is... yeah.

[Maxine never did look quite well-settled when she had to do the things she needed to regarding trauma surgery.]

Pretty intense, I'll say. I don't envy you that occupation. Hopefully things are... marginally better, though. Sure is for us, despite the interesting... environs. But it gets Jack in some legitimate suspenders, not bad.

It is intense. Bloody. Chaotic. Difficult to study and even more difficult to master; but worth it for more reasons than I care to list.

[She mulls it over for a moment more before pouring one last shot, downing it, then setting the glass and the bottle back in her bag once she's finished.]

Thank you again. Both of you, for letting me stay here. It cannot be so very easy for you and I am grateful.

Really - you don't have to be like that. It's no hardship for us. The last place we lived was a bit . . . tighter-packed than the village here.

[Seeing as Eugene seems to be mastering the cooking, Jack has a seat as well, shooting a smirk at his intrepid companion.]

Hah, closest we ever had to a private room must have been the comms station. You know, I think they actually loaned out our beds in housing for a week during the last round of construction?

It's really no trouble, it's easier to do it here than... back home. The construction, that was kind of... well, it was easier to get to work, I guess. Not real comfortable, though. Not much temperature control in there. We were lucky to have a little for the electronics, themselves, though.

[Realizes he's rambling and stops short, giving a sheepish grin to no one in particular. Heating up food was easy enough, but he didn't like leaving it just at that. But better to be a little conservative on the good, considering who knew how long this would last.]

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[Action/Written] - backdated to Nov. 24th early a.m.

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