First Stanza: [Action/Written]

[burns_so_brightly]

[The gentleman walking out of Community Building 1 does not live there, and in fact didn’t even walk in there in the first place. He’s dressed in a suit, tie, and trench coat and is tossing a fedora between his hands. Julian Bell walks through Luceti with a smile, as if this is nothing more than an exceptionally lucky day. He’s keen to explore and peers into every shop, sometimes actually going inside. The library holds his fascination for some time, and he’s delighted to find his own published books of poetry there (even if he’d admit it’s a faintly narcissistic pleasure).

He eventually sits down at the tea shop to read, looking for all the world like this is a vacation day and not the day after his death. That part, he’ll address once this actually sinks in.

At night, he’s at Cloud Nine, enjoying a Scotch on the rocks and a cigarette and listening to the music. For a crappy oppressed town, this place is doing very well!

Eventually, he works past an unusual (for him) nervousness and writes over the journals.]

Am I allowed to take any empty flat, or is that supposed to be assigned?

-Julian Bell

Comments

[herotypical]

Hmm. Well, Julian? [ his calm reception of all this madness puts her at ease. so with a more genuine smile, she places her hand. ]

I'm Buffy Summers.

[burns_so_brightly]

[He shakes respectfully, but his grin doesn't fade.] Now, that's not a name just anyone can pull off.

[herotypical]

Says the guy with a name like an Ivy League graduate. And dressed like one to boot. Only the hat makes you look a few decades too late. When're you from, Jules?

[ OH NO. a nickname. already. maybe she's compensating. ]

[burns_so_brightly]

When am I from? [He chuckles.] 1937. When are you from?

[herotypical]

A whole lot later.

[ she grins; this is buffy summers trying to claw back some control over this meet and greet by being horribly vague. ]

[burns_so_brightly]

[He clears the table enough for her and gestures for her to sit in an empty chair.] Well? Are you going to tell me what it's like?

[herotypical]

[ she glances back at the counter -- ah, screw it.

sliding into the indicated seat, she leans her elbows on the table. ] Would you even believe me if I did?

[burns_so_brightly]

How would I know better anyway? [He sees her glance to the counter.] Oh, I'm sorry. Let me get you something.

[herotypical]

Hmm? O-oh. No. Sorry. I'm not...I was just picking something up for someone else. I don't actually drink tea. Often. I'm more of a caramel macchiato kinda girl.

[ a frantic wave of her hand. ] It's cool. Th-thanks, anyway. Real sweet.

[burns_so_brightly]

[He nods, then realizes how ridiculous he just was and chuckles wryly.] Very sweet of me, offering to pay for your drink.

[herotypical]

Figured that one out, have you? Darn and blast. Here's me liking to have my IOU related fun with the newbies.

You, sir, are a party-pooper.

[burns_so_brightly]

[He's laughing. Not out of habit now, but because she was actually funny. That mockingly gruff voice again.] Your forgiveness, Madam.

[herotypical]

Oh jeez, please don't call me madam. That makes me feel like I'm a billion years old. And I'm not. I'm really not a billion years old.

[burns_so_brightly]

No, that would be me. [He wipes the outside of his teacup and sips at what's left in it.]

[herotypical]

[ powers that be bless his sense of humour. ]

Maybe a year or two shy. Let's be generous.

[burns_so_brightly]

Were you fooled into thinking I'm twenty-nine?

[herotypical]

[ she relaxes. ]

Completely duped.

[burns_so_brightly]

[Chuckle.]

So Buffy. Where are you from, anyway?

[herotypical]

California. Via Scotland. It's complicated.

You?

[burns_so_brightly]

Charleston, via Wuhan. Or maybe Spain, via London, via Charleston, via Wuhan, via Cambridge, via Charleston all over again, and I was born in London.

[herotypical]

Oh. Well? If we're talking about birthplaces? Mine's LA. Oh. And 2005.

[burns_so_brightly]

Oh, we've made it that far without killing ourselves off?

[The smile turns a tad wooden and grim, like he's not massively impressed with humanity.]

[herotypical]

[ she responds with her own flavour of grimdark: ] Believe me, it's not for lack of trying.

[burns_so_brightly]

Perhaps there is some sort of divine providence after all. I never saw much evidence before, but it could be the only explanation.

[herotypical]

[ that or marginalized, secretive heroics. ]

Humans are stubborn. We're clingers. We cling.