burns_so_brightly | First Stanza: [Action/Written]

[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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Okay. An', uh, it's jus' Mac." Not that he didn't have a last name, of course, but he didn't think it necessary to fully introduce himself. "I ain't older than ya - don' think so, at least - so y'don' gotta me sir or nothin'. Sounds weird t'me anyway, if people say it t'me."

Okay, so this is continuing. Nothing to do but be polite, then. Julian nods. "Mac, then. I'm Julian."

Oh, conversation is inevitable. For the most part, only a prickly response or a clearly stated, 'I am busy; I must be on my way' (or something to that effect) would prompt him to leave so soon. "...Nice t'meetchya, Mr.Julian." He extends his hand after tugging off his snow-crusted glove.

Edited 2012-01-10 01:59 (UTC)

They shake hands, and Julian, this close to him, is quite certain he's older than this guy. "Wonderful. What do you do round here?"

"Me? Well, 'sides from joggin' 'round like I always do, I train at the Battledome an' the Barracks, an' have lunch an' dinner at Seventh Heaven." He assumes Julian is familiar with the locations to which he is referring. "If people I know're havin' a party or somethin', I'll check it out. It's better than stayin' at my 'partment doin' nothin' special, y'know?"

Edited 2012-01-10 02:40 (UTC)

"...I meant your job."

"Oh. I don' got one." Pausing, he is reminded of his last conversation with Anthony. "I'm a pro boxer back home, but here... things're different. There ain't no money t'go out an' earn. Don' gotta worry 'bout payin' bills or eatin' or nothin'."

"Oh. Well." He punts a pebble a short way. "How do things get done?"

"Know it ain't a real good answer, but... they jus'... kinda do." Mac scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "People help each other out as much as they can, but the houses an' stuff like that, that's what the Malnosso give us." His blue eyes harden suddenly. "...Sounds real fine an' dandy when y'get here, but it ain't, 'cause they think it's okay t'take ya to them labs sometimes an' do whatever they want with ya."

"I know." He says it like someone with whom reality hasn't caught up. Also, compared to where he was twenty-four hours ago, this frozen little place is a welcome sight.

Surfacing from his thoughts, he blinks at Julian. "Sorry. It jus'..." His frustration reluctantly gives way to resignation. "It keeps pissin' me off. I don' like hurtin' nobody, but sometimes, I think that if one a' those Malnosso guys was standin' right in front a' me, I'd punch 'im in the face." A little shrug. "Guess a lot a' people'd wanna do that, too."

Julian is actually rather preoccupied staring at some of the more unusual-looking folks of the village. He never made a lot of time for people as poorly spoken as Mac--not because he thought them without value, but simply for sheer lack of understanding of how to converse with such people. Anyway, the kid's a good ten years younger than him and of the odd sort that Julian never really had a lot of exposure to, besides the poor souls he whisked away in an ambulance. The ones who, generally, spoke no English whatever. When Mac stops talking, the silence breaks him from his thoughts.

"I'm...sorry."

"Huh?" While he isn't quite sure what the apology is for, he accepts it nonetheless after glancing blank-faced at him. "...Oh. It's okay. Anyway... m'guessin' y'new here, right? D'ya need a rundown a' the place or somethin'?"

He shakes his head. "I read the guide."

He nods acknowledgingly. "Awright then." His pursed lips then curl into a small smile. "I'll letchya do whatever y'doin', an' uh... guess I'll see ya around."

Julian nods in farewell--short enough to be decisive but long enough to still be polite-ish. "Good day, then."

"Yeah!" He calls out, after pivoting and reassuming a brisk pace. "I think the weather's pretty nice, too!"