George Milton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bindlestifflost) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2022-07-02 11:27 pm
bindlestifflost) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2022-07-02 11:27 pm
Over the hills and far away LOG [OPEN + Closed prompts]
Who: George Milton + various
When: July
Where: Various locations in Gloucester, on the train, in and around ADI
Summary: TDM Prompts + July catch-all
Warnings: scopophobia; paranoia; unnatural animals, thalassophobia; mild scopophobia, bodily harm, stalking, bullying, altered perception, alcohol abuse, discussion of mercy killing/murder, mob "justice," gun violence
Train Home
George can be found in various parts of the train throughout the ride home, the dining car, the passenger area, the scenic window look-out, or the sleeping cubbies when it's dark and late. Pick a place if you want to talk to him about the events in Wolf's Pen or anything else. He's quiet and a little subdued but approachable and willing to talk.
Birdswatching
Maybe it's because he has spent so much of his time outside in his life, or maybe it's because he has always been extra wary of eyes on him, but it doesn't take George long at all to notice something is very off about the birds in the trees and in stealthier spots beneath bushes on the ground watching.
He pulls the brim of his LA Dodgers ballcap lower to conceal as much of his face as possible when he faces you and says, "This is a new one. What do you make of it? Think we ought to cut patrol short?"
If they're just watching, that's one thing. There's no guarantee they'll keep it to that. In his thin, short sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he doesn't feel nearly protected enough from sharp beaks or swarming talons. Not all of those birds are small or harmless, if they got it in their heads to get punchy.
Current Events
Riptide
((OOC: Please note, I'm doing 2 of these. 1 rescuing someone else, 1 being rescued. After that, George would be getting out of the water and not getting back in. First come first serve.))
1. Rescue
George has been enjoying himself in the water, a good swimmer even if being in the surf is new to him. He's swimming slow laps out beyond the breaker line when he notices you shoot past him, and whether you realize you're in trouble or not, he realizes it. "Hey!" he shouts, changing his trajectory almost immediately.
"Hang on! I'm coming for you!" He picks up speed to cut through the water to catch up.
"Relax if you can. If you fight me, we's both gonna drown."
2. Help!
Well, he'd only just managed to get someone else to safety. Whether the current shifted or he somehow managed to get further to his left than he intended, he feels himself very suddenly in a strong pull and sweep. Instinctively, he goes to his back, face out of the water and as little of him under as he can manage. It's still very fast, very far, and he's feeling both nervous and a little queasy when he looks back toward shore.
That's a long way to swim when a body is already tired out. He's looking for anything he can grab onto, and if not, trying to scull sideways to get out of the worst of it.
Poseidon Quivers
George is no artist. He'll be the first person to say it, but building sand castles isn't half bad. He's enjoying himself except for his legs going to sleep under him. He has just finished a rounded turret with a bucket when he's standing up and trying to walk it off. "Damnedest thing," he mutters.
He's wearing a LA Dodgers baseball cap, a plain pair of red swimming trunks that hit mid-thigh, and a cheap pair of sunglasses. His unfortunate permanent farmer's tan and very white legs are on full display, the latter covered with sand.
We Feast upon the Flesh
"You little bastard!" George is swatting his ballcap unsuccessfully at a seagull that just lunged in and stole his entire hotdog out of its bun. "Did you see that? Unbelievable!"
OR
George is sitting on a lounge chair hunched over a plate of food protectively and watching out for any sign of bird movement with paranoid eyes. He's eating in quick, decisive bites. If you draw close, he says, "Better watch your food. Those damned birds are out for blood today."
Spot the Difference
((OOC: Just one thread for the actual artifact, please, since it doesn't make sense to me he'd continually handle something that hurt him. I'll take repeat threads for the other injuries appearing later. First come first serve for the knife part.))
Wearing a pair of thick leather work gloves, George has picked a box and begun carefully looking at, taking pictures of, and cataloging the items inside. He's not keen to discover any weirdness. It's part of the job, and after the events in Wolf's Pen, he's both more resigned to this aspect of it and a little more confident in his ability to handle things.
He has a knife in gloved hand he's turning over to look for odd markings on the blade or handle. A strange sensation stabs through him. He glances down to see a spreading red stain on his white t-shirt on his right side over his ribs. "What the Hell?"
Setting the knife aside, he untucks the shirt and begins rolling it up carefully. There's a five inch gash across his ribs, not quite deep enough to need stitches. "You got a better angle on it. How bad is it?"
OR
It's lunch at the cafeteria. George is digging into a sandwich and some chips when a long wound opens across the back of his left hand. He drops the sandwich and grabs his hand, grimacing in sudden pain. "Aww, Hell, not again. Don't suppose you could grab me a handful a' some of them napkins, could you?"
He's bleeding onto the tray and table despite efforts to stop it with one hand clamped hard to the back of the other.
OR
It's another morning heading out for patrol around the perimeter of the dog park. George seems cheerful enough if a little subdued, his left hand bandaged and his ballcap set a bit low. He doesn't like the idea of the birds able to read his expression easily. He's setting a rapid clip until he suddenly stumbles and grimaces.
"You gotta be kiddin' me," he grumbles. "Hold up. I need to check something." He hobbles to take a seat in the grass off the sidewalk and moves to pull off his left work boot.
Studying
George can be caught in various places around ADI with a study book from the DMV. He doesn't try to hide it if he's caught with it but will need to be approached or spoken to if someone wants him breaking away from his work to engage.
SOL/Handwave Prompts
((OOC: Feel free to pick anything from this list as a log prompt if you want something lighter or fill it out if we've threaded at least once before.))
When: July
Where: Various locations in Gloucester, on the train, in and around ADI
Summary: TDM Prompts + July catch-all
Warnings: scopophobia; paranoia; unnatural animals, thalassophobia; mild scopophobia, bodily harm, stalking, bullying, altered perception, alcohol abuse, discussion of mercy killing/murder, mob "justice," gun violence
Train Home
George can be found in various parts of the train throughout the ride home, the dining car, the passenger area, the scenic window look-out, or the sleeping cubbies when it's dark and late. Pick a place if you want to talk to him about the events in Wolf's Pen or anything else. He's quiet and a little subdued but approachable and willing to talk.
Birdswatching
Maybe it's because he has spent so much of his time outside in his life, or maybe it's because he has always been extra wary of eyes on him, but it doesn't take George long at all to notice something is very off about the birds in the trees and in stealthier spots beneath bushes on the ground watching.
He pulls the brim of his LA Dodgers ballcap lower to conceal as much of his face as possible when he faces you and says, "This is a new one. What do you make of it? Think we ought to cut patrol short?"
If they're just watching, that's one thing. There's no guarantee they'll keep it to that. In his thin, short sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he doesn't feel nearly protected enough from sharp beaks or swarming talons. Not all of those birds are small or harmless, if they got it in their heads to get punchy.
Current Events
Riptide
((OOC: Please note, I'm doing 2 of these. 1 rescuing someone else, 1 being rescued. After that, George would be getting out of the water and not getting back in. First come first serve.))
1. Rescue
George has been enjoying himself in the water, a good swimmer even if being in the surf is new to him. He's swimming slow laps out beyond the breaker line when he notices you shoot past him, and whether you realize you're in trouble or not, he realizes it. "Hey!" he shouts, changing his trajectory almost immediately.
"Hang on! I'm coming for you!" He picks up speed to cut through the water to catch up.
"Relax if you can. If you fight me, we's both gonna drown."
2. Help!
Well, he'd only just managed to get someone else to safety. Whether the current shifted or he somehow managed to get further to his left than he intended, he feels himself very suddenly in a strong pull and sweep. Instinctively, he goes to his back, face out of the water and as little of him under as he can manage. It's still very fast, very far, and he's feeling both nervous and a little queasy when he looks back toward shore.
That's a long way to swim when a body is already tired out. He's looking for anything he can grab onto, and if not, trying to scull sideways to get out of the worst of it.
Poseidon Quivers
George is no artist. He'll be the first person to say it, but building sand castles isn't half bad. He's enjoying himself except for his legs going to sleep under him. He has just finished a rounded turret with a bucket when he's standing up and trying to walk it off. "Damnedest thing," he mutters.
He's wearing a LA Dodgers baseball cap, a plain pair of red swimming trunks that hit mid-thigh, and a cheap pair of sunglasses. His unfortunate permanent farmer's tan and very white legs are on full display, the latter covered with sand.
We Feast upon the Flesh
"You little bastard!" George is swatting his ballcap unsuccessfully at a seagull that just lunged in and stole his entire hotdog out of its bun. "Did you see that? Unbelievable!"
OR
George is sitting on a lounge chair hunched over a plate of food protectively and watching out for any sign of bird movement with paranoid eyes. He's eating in quick, decisive bites. If you draw close, he says, "Better watch your food. Those damned birds are out for blood today."
Spot the Difference
((OOC: Just one thread for the actual artifact, please, since it doesn't make sense to me he'd continually handle something that hurt him. I'll take repeat threads for the other injuries appearing later. First come first serve for the knife part.))
Wearing a pair of thick leather work gloves, George has picked a box and begun carefully looking at, taking pictures of, and cataloging the items inside. He's not keen to discover any weirdness. It's part of the job, and after the events in Wolf's Pen, he's both more resigned to this aspect of it and a little more confident in his ability to handle things.
He has a knife in gloved hand he's turning over to look for odd markings on the blade or handle. A strange sensation stabs through him. He glances down to see a spreading red stain on his white t-shirt on his right side over his ribs. "What the Hell?"
Setting the knife aside, he untucks the shirt and begins rolling it up carefully. There's a five inch gash across his ribs, not quite deep enough to need stitches. "You got a better angle on it. How bad is it?"
OR
It's lunch at the cafeteria. George is digging into a sandwich and some chips when a long wound opens across the back of his left hand. He drops the sandwich and grabs his hand, grimacing in sudden pain. "Aww, Hell, not again. Don't suppose you could grab me a handful a' some of them napkins, could you?"
He's bleeding onto the tray and table despite efforts to stop it with one hand clamped hard to the back of the other.
OR
It's another morning heading out for patrol around the perimeter of the dog park. George seems cheerful enough if a little subdued, his left hand bandaged and his ballcap set a bit low. He doesn't like the idea of the birds able to read his expression easily. He's setting a rapid clip until he suddenly stumbles and grimaces.
"You gotta be kiddin' me," he grumbles. "Hold up. I need to check something." He hobbles to take a seat in the grass off the sidewalk and moves to pull off his left work boot.
Studying
George can be caught in various places around ADI with a study book from the DMV. He doesn't try to hide it if he's caught with it but will need to be approached or spoken to if someone wants him breaking away from his work to engage.
SOL/Handwave Prompts
((OOC: Feel free to pick anything from this list as a log prompt if you want something lighter or fill it out if we've threaded at least once before.))
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"I... I don't mind." He looks down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs against each other. "That guy I told you about I used to travel with. Lennie. Had a lotta problems. And uh, they was real bad and hard to deal with. Jes' wasn't nothing around for folks like that. Nothing good."
He glances at him. "If he'd a' been born around this time, thirty years ago instead of over a hundred, things would'a been so different for him. He could'a had schoolin'. Medicine to help him with his feelings. When they got outta control. So many things here is so much easier. People don't seem to realize." Like that infuriating talk he had with Addie. He lets out a soft huff.
"Guess when you got to talking about the medicine, it got me up in my own head a little. Sorry about that."
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Even if he knows he’s plum crazy.
“Mental health care is still miles behind where it should be and mental health problems are still wildly stigmatized, but I can’t even imagine what would have happened to me if I were born in your time, trying to deal with…” He gestures at his head. “All this. Your friend was lucky to have someone who cared about him enough to wear his problems rather than see him locked up where he would have been tortured and humiliated in the guise of ‘treatment’, in the locked hallways of the public’s apathy.”
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"A lot of what happened to you...that's what marked you. You wasn't born hurt. Lennie was. I don't know who his folks was before they dropped him off at his Aunt Clara's. I don't even know if she was really his aunt or jes' a good woman who saw a kid who needed more than anybody else wanted to deal with. God knows she had the patience of a saint."
More patience than he ever could muster. A much kinder touch. He rests his head against the cool glass, the trees beyond a green blur.
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"I killed him, Malcolm," he says quietly. "I killed him, because if I didn't, a mob of angry ranch hands was gonna gut shoot him, and there wasn't nothin' else I could do."
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“…That must have been a hard choice to make,” he acknowledges. George loved Lennie, even if Malcolm can’t point that out. He knows that George could never admit that in those words. Malcolm recalls his own sister, covered in blood and the things he did that he thought he could never do to protect her from that. He remembers telling his father, whom he wanted returned to prison more than anything, to run away because he didn’t trust his own team not to shoot him on sight. “And it must be a hard choice to live with.”
He recalls how adamantly George wanted the team to consider nonlethal interventions in Wolf Pen.
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He looks at his hands in his lap, fidgety, the whole of him unsettled. He can't bring himself to drag out the full context again, not so soon after it happened on the island and he'd felt he had to tell Nick, that if it had come out some other way, it could have ruined the building friendship they have and the comfort of living together.
"Lotta things happened. Kind a' things I know I don't have to explain to you 'cause of what you seen in your life. You seen enough ugliness for ten fellas I reckon."
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"I know that sometimes a situation gets so bad that mercy is the last thing left that you can offer someone. And I know that, when someone matters to us, we'll do things we never imagined we were capable of and don't want to think about for them."
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"We was a month away from a stake." He's surprised at the steadiness of his voice. "Did the math. Had the land and house agreed on. Jes' needed a hundred more dollars. I was gonna go ahead about three weeks, get it all set. Lennie and Candy was gonna come after."
His voice hardens a little. "That's what I thought about for 'im. That's all I ever wanted for 'im."
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"I know sooner or later I got to get right with it. Happened the same day I got here, and I jes' been puttin' one foot in front a' the other ever since. Don't know no other way."
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"I'll see you at the office tomorrow," he says before heading down towards the dining car.
But if George does fall asleep, he'll wake to a cup of black coffee on his tray table.