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[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.
Re: [Action]
[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?
[Action]
[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.]
[Action]
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.
[Action]
[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.
[Action]
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.
[Action]
[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.
[Action]
[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?
[Action]
[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.]