apocalypsehowcomm | A handkerchief held all my gear (OPEN LOG Catch-all April)

Who: George Milton and ???
When: Most of April
Where: In ADI, on the grounds, and Gloucester proper
Summary: George is familiarizing himself with his new environment and is never content to be in one place for too long.
Warnings: Possibly some of the eye flower weirdness if anyone wants to do a fair/festival prompt, possibly drinking to excess, will update if needed and also warn in individual thread headers.

1. Home Sweet Home?

It's weird, having such a huge space just to himself and maybe two other folks. For now it seems like it's just Nick, and well, he could have done a whole lot worse. Settling in is always a little awkward. He didn't have much of anything to put away. That took no time at all.

So now he's sitting on the sofa in the common room fiddling with the phone, not because he likes it or particularly wants to but because it has been emphasized so much as important, he'd be a fool not to keep at it. He's less outwardly or visibly frustrated working on it alone, just grunting and muttering to himself off and on as he fat fingers his typing or has trouble making one of the apps do what it's supposed to.

He doesn't know how long he has been at it. Long enough for his butt to be sore and his legs to feel like they could use a good stretching when there's a knock at the door. Immediately, he tucks the phone in his jacket pocket as he stands and crosses to it.

"Who's there?" His voice is deep and sharp enough to carry through the wood just fine.

2. The Library

The short guy sitting at the computer terminal doesn't much look like he belongs there. He's staring very intently at the monitor, his typing a painfully slow hunt and peck style. He seems to be trying to research basic history of the region, currently on one of the local government pages of helpful links.

Every now and then he awkwardly moves or clicks the mouse, often followed by a low, "Dammit," or, "No, not you. I want...you." He's so engrossed in the work that he doesn't react at first to the person who comes in behind him. It's only when he hears a definitive noise that he jumps a little and whips his head around, looking almost guilty.

"Sorry. Did you need this?" He's not completely sure he ought to be here, and it shows.

3. The Grounds

At various locations around the grounds, a short, slight man in a brimmed work hat can be spotted wandering and familiarizing himself with the area. He has a fast, no-nonsense gait, like somebody used to being on his feet, and he's never in any one place for very long. When spoken to, he touches his hat brim and gives a nod. He's fine with stopping to chat, especially if he has already met you, but even if he hasn't, he won't brush off a friendly overture.

4. The General's Store

George's voice is increasingly strident as he argues with the beleaguered cashier behind the register. "An' I'm tellin' you 50 bucks for a plain ol' fishin' pole is highway robbery. Not to mention you ain't even including tackle or bait in that. I ain't gonna stand here and let you swindle me. You been swindlin' everybody who works at ADI? That it?"

"Sir, if you'd just..."

"Don't you sir me. Do I look like a sir? Jes' admit you're doing people dirty. I'll tell you what. You put all a' that mess back on the shelf. I don't want none of it. I wouldn't take it if you paid me." Without another word, he's storming for the door.

5. A Bar at the Docks

It took long enough to find the kind of place with the vibe he was looking for, nothing too fancy, just a hole in the wall with beat up barstools and an older woman behind the bar who seems happy enough not to ask too many questions. Like everything else in this damned town, the price of the drinks is sky high. By this point he doesn't care.

He's seated belly up at the far end of the bar pounding gin like there's a run on it, and he may have found the last bottle. There's a certain fixed quality to his thousand yard stare. Hard to tell if he recognizes you or not if you approach.

6. Wildcard!

((OOC: Bring your own prompt, or feel free to use some of the fair prompts from the TDM. George would be playing any number of games there. If you have any questions or want to run something by me, you can hit me up at

velocinapper, PM, or Disco. Brackets are also fine!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He waves his hand in a gesture of No thanks. The joking has gone out of his demeanor, too. He eyes him a little sideways, keeping the rest of his attention on his pole. "Was that why you was in prison?" he asks, sounding more cautious now.

Resting his pole next to him Manji keeps an eye on it while taking a lazy drag from his pipe. "It certainly was a convenient excuse for the arrest, but no." He takes another hit and tries to blow out a smoke ring, but it doesn't work at all.

"I'm immortal. They wanted to figure out how to make others immortal to by studying me." He says it so calmly. Like it was a normal everyday thing.

He's so not sure he wants the answer to this. They've come this far. He has to ask. "So...how'd you find that out? You...go through worse things than your arm to find out?" It's hard for him to imagine how else anyone would know they couldn't die.

"Oh, that was easy." He says with a bit of a smirk. Setting down his pipe to pick his pole back up. Thinking he might have seen a nibble and wishing to be ready should something bite.

"I was bleeding to death; dying like I was supposed to do after a big fight. When this old crone came up and decided to put some holy worms in my body that fixed me right up and now they won't let me die." Seeing no further action on his pole he switches it back for the pipe once again. "The scars on my face and body are from before the worms. They don't seem interested in fixing injuries I had before they got put in. The arm I lost while they were studying my immortality. I cut it off to escape the chains I was in. Place was flooding and I lost my grip on it." That was indeed a pun. "Haven't felt much like chopping off someone else's arm to replace it. At least... not yet."

Yeah, he just...he's just going to sit there and absorb all of that about as successfully as a hosed down piece of vinyl. He's bobbing his fishing pole a little on reflex, but George.exe has stopped running. Would you like to wait, or shut down?

"Thank God for small favors, I guess." He has no idea what else to say.

Manji still laughs as if he hasn't just caused this man's mind to stall out. "Yeah! So don't worry! You got nothin' to worry about. I think I like ya so I'll let you keep your arms." And just in case George still looks shocked he relents just a little.

"I'm kidding. I have no intention about stealing anyone's arm." A beat. "Although I am immortal."

Wait, is this a chance to 'scare' someone? Should he feed his patron a little? Is this how it works? Manji isn't quite sure, but he decides to lean into it a bit more. "You wanna see 'em?"

"That's a...relief?" He jiggles the pole again a little harder. He's starting to get the feeling this fella's turning from fun poking to mean, and well...that's going to be a whole other can of worms in another couple of minutes or so. He can already feel his mood shifting darker.

"See what?" It's wary, with a hard edge under it. His squint sideways is narrowed.

Manji is indeed some kind of can of worms. He continues to smile slyly. "The worms. Most people don't believe the immortal thing without seeing proof of it themselves. So, you curious enough to want to see?" He'll give George the choice to see it as he does like the guy. If he doesn't want to see and possibly be freaked out then Manji wasn't going to force the issue. Still, it would be good to test and see how much of a 'scare' he needs to give people.

"Nah. I'm good." It's flatter still. No part of him wants to see that in any way. He has a somewhat dogged focus on the cork out in the water, body tense in every line. Whatever vibe he's giving off, it's not fear.

He gives his shoulder a lazy shrug. "Alright then." He'll let the subject dropped now. "Just take my word for it. If some old lady offers you immortality: say no. Not that she gave me much of a choice."

"Yeah, I'll sure keep that in mind." No part of him has ever wanted to be immortal no how. It sounds horrifying, never to grow old, never to die, just hanging around as everything changes around you. Being here has shown him just how not great that can be already.

"So what's your story?" It seemed to Manji that most people from other times and worlds have an interesting story behind them.

"Ain't near as colorful." He's still wary, his jaw a little tight, but he continues.

"I was a migrant farm worker in NorCal. Uh, Northern part a' California. 1936. It was a bad time, hard to get work. Hard to keep things growing. Dust bowl." Not that he knows what caused it.

"Dust?" Manji hums it over. "Never had to put up with much dust in the past, but I can imagine a lot of it would be a nightmare. California a desert of something?"

"Parts of it. That ain't where it all came from, though. Used to be good, usable land dried up when everything blew away. Couldn't grow nothin'. I'm sure somebody around here could tell you why. It ain't me." He's more one of the ones having to deal with the problem, not one of the ones studying it.

"I think I know what you mean." Out of curiosity when he heard he was in the future he tried to look information up on himself. Nothing written about him or Rin.

God, he hopes that kid is doing alright without him.

"I actually tried to look myself up." He admits after a bit. "Not sure if I'm relieved or not that I didn't find any mention about me in the history books I looked at."

That's really...not a fun thought. His shoulder twitches. "I ain't the sort what'd make a history page, anyway. Most likely gonna die in a ditch somewhere or drink myself to death in some roadhouse. Or would've. Guess here it's get swallowed up by some shit eatin' entity." Yep, mood turn for sure.

"Nothing wrong with living an unremarkable life." Suddenly Manji yanks on his pole quickly reeling in what he's caught. "But no dying in a ditch or by being swallowed up. I don't want to have to try to find a new fishing buddy."

"I'll do my best." He finally relaxes the rest of the way, watching him pull up a catch and soon enough following suit. At least they'll get a good dinner out of it.

((OOC: Feel like a good place to wrap?))

(ooc: sounds great!)

A handkerchief held all my gear (OPEN LOG Catch-all April)

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CW: Mention of worms and losing a limb

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