driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Zhas and whoever wants in on this grumpy trainwreck.
Broadcast: None probably.
Action: All day every day.
When: Forward dated to the dust moon because SOMEONE (me) can't be patient.

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[gunning for the prestigious "first asshole to get irresponsibly drunk as soon as they land" award, there's this guy. he doesn't normally do this kind of thing, but it's been a spectacularly harrowing six months or so. he landed, took one look at this tiny town, and thought, "Nope. Not going to participate."

he has since been working hard to remove himself from the responsibility of being a functioning human being. is this a good idea? of course not. but he has reasons and he has a gnawing evil in his chest, and he'd love for one of them to just shut up for a while.

so, acquaintances will be surprised to find him out in the late evening, dressed up like a normal person and not covered in face paint. his eyes still have kind of a dim orange glow to them, but genetics can't be helped. anyone, friend or stranger, is welcome to find him either:

a. in the process of getting drunk (at the bar, hunched grumpily over his glass of bourbon)
b. getting into a fight (because the other guy... something... doesn't really matter anyway)
c. wandering the town streets (uncoordinated, content, and oblivious to a bad nosebleed)

on the bright side, the ratings he'll get from this will probably pay for his bar tab.]

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[Space is cold. The ground in October hadn't been warm and snuggly either. But here, his tolerance doesn't do him favors. Murphy's hair is plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck in places, and he's foregone his jacket entirely by tying it around his waist. Some scattered older gentleman at the general store had honestly thought Murphy'd given him back all the coins he'd dropped (what an idiot), something he'd be a little more high on if he'd gotten more out of it and if everything wasn't so hot and cranky.

[He drops his coins loudly and rudely on the counter, dropping heavily onto the stool beside Zhas and waving a hand at the money. He has no idea what it adds up to, but.] Whatever that gets me. I don't know, something wet and boozey and something else on a plate. Chop chop.

[Jeez. He talks to nobody in particular:] Can you believe this place? [Looks like the movies they used to air every month down in the mess halls. He turns to Zhas, since he's nearby and subjected to this without much option.] -Well, you can probably believe this place; I can barely believe your eyeballs are real.

[NEVER MIND. He thought he was talking to someone normal, and not a superpowered demigod or whatever is happening beside him right now.]

[Zhas is extremely determined not to work today. a full-fledged vampire could walk up in front of the hunter, insult either of his mothers, and his response would be nothing more than a flat stare and to drain whatever was left in his glass.

but, on-duty or not, he can't just turn off. he's already sizing Murphy up by the sound of his voice, the weight with which he'd slapped down money and flopped into the stool. his creepy, jack-o-lantern eyes don't slide towards the guy until he's being actively talked at, and even then, he's very methodical.

looks Murphy over. looks at Murphy's clothes. glances at the money he's put on the counter, posture very still and unsettling-like.

...oh, but eventually he squints back at Murphy's face, and points to both his own eyes. you talking about his eyes?]

[Murphy rears back - not much, but enough to be noticeable. It's the all-over, tensed, 'don't touch me' kind of sit. But he paid for that food - sort of fair? sort of square? - and he's not moving.

Who else did this guy think he was talking to? He can rarely help the sarcasm that seeps into his voice, but right now it's in full force.]

No, man, not you, the other guy right behind you with the other glowstick eyes. [He gestures vaguely over Zhas' shoulder as if such a person exists, but then he waves Zhas off.] Yeah, you. Whatever, universe gets weirder by the day.

[making people uncomfortable is, unfortunately, what he does for a living. but this is good--the kid doesn't seem all that immediately dangerous or anything, just loud.

all the eye nonsense, though. he mulls that over, still staring for a second or two longer than necessary... but whatever's going on behind that looks-like-he-had-fun-once-and-hated-it expression, it culminates in him finally looking back at the bar, reaching into his pocket, and dropping the contents on top of Murphy's payment--another half-dozen coins of his own.]

Saw this in a movie once. [oh yes, Zhas sounds just as gravelly and monotone as he looks. thank goodness he's retreating back towards his drink.] Kind of makes it worse.

[Zhas digs in his pockets for who knows what so Murphy instinctively gropes for the pike stowed in his jacket - that's currently around his waist. He's still tugging weirdly at a handful of his shirt by the time Zhas is coming up with only coins, not a weapon.

After a long, hard, dead-eyed stare at the money, Murphy starts to pick out those extra coins one by one and jangles them momentarily in his hand. He doesn't know too many movies. He's already sure he's not going to know it.]

Saw - what, a whole lot of desert nothing or some guy giving up good credit for no reason? [Murphy claps the money back to the counter and slides it back over in front of Zhas, annoyingly slow but very sure.] Save it for the sunglasses fund or whatever.

[he rolls his eyes... which is at least a human expression, and possibly the most comforting thing he's done so far. he lets the money sit there.]

No, the town. Only seen two movies in my life, and this was basically one of them. Makes it seem pretty stupid.

[he nods back down at the money, finally.] Yours won't get you much.

[maybe he's trying to be nice. maybe he's got a really, really, really bad understanding of what "nice" is.]

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hello yes i remembered this post i'll take a little of column A -which may become column B who knows

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