(open) The wall

[lazyinlove]

Date & Time: Tuesday (today)
Location: Out in the city!
Characters: Stanley Lucerne and whoever stumbles across him.
Summary: Stan has the feeling he could plaster a wall if he set his mind to it...so he gives it a shot. He hasn't recruited anyone, so all are as likely/welcome to be there as you want.
Warnings: Cursing. He's an American teenage boy from the modern era. Also drugs, whoops. You know, stuff like that.

((OOC And any format is fine, I'll follow. Just starting in prose because it's less work on my phone.))

It wasn't a gradual thing. Gradually, it might've made sense. Maybe he could've mulled it over in his sleep and worked things out. People did that. Famous people. He'd fallen asleep in many a history class to the drone of 'and in a dream, inspiration solved x huge historical problem.'

Instead, it was sudden. As soon as that lady with the weird speech patterns had suggested it, he'd known it was in there. The ability to help. The knowledge of how to go about rebuilding. Which was weird, frankly, since he'd never so much as lifted a hammer before in his life. Yeah, sure, there were tools in the garage back home. His dad might've even known how a few of them worked, though that was debatable. A certainty was that he had never even attempted to show them to Stanley, who had always made his disinterest in manual labor known to those around him.

So it was more than a little unexpected when this morning he woke with not only the feeling that he was capable of helping in the aftermath of the bombing, but the alien new feeling of actually wanting to do so. Which was how he found himself gathering stones and materials, and quietly setting to work. It didn't even matter what the buildings had been before, because he wasn't interested in helping anyone specific. It was sort of like being possessed.

Then again, it could've been worse. He could've been levitating and vomiting pea soup. That would've sucked...

Comments

[5055034455]

Did someone say vomiting pea soup? Because Saul's been nauseated for days. He's also been spending a lot of time outside both his apartment and the office, but hasn't really talked to anyone. The truth is, he's avoiding people.

Which is weird, for him. And getting a little old.

So it's Stanley who catches his attention. Saul recognizes the general look about him — maybe that's not being fair; maybe he's just stereotyping — but he's seen enough of this kid's type back home to think he knows a stoner when he sees one.

He's never seen one doing DIY work, though.

Here's hoping Stanley won't mind being watched.

[lazyinlove]

The funny thing is that these days, Stanley notices being watched. He's not the kind of person who generally has to worry about it in the first place, because he's always been sort of good at blending into the surroundings and just sort of hanging out. He's the guy who watches other people. Unless he's in a shopping mall, he's not expecting it. Normally, he wouldn't even notice.

Then again, normally not noticing people and things is far less likely to get him killed than it is around here. Like it or not, the past three weeks (has it even been three weeks? Close enough. It feels like months and months anyway,) have re-wired him slightly. Or maybe just wired him to begin with.

So he goes about his task for a while, gathering stones, sketching repair blueprints, which he is surprised to find himself capable of, and generally preparing to commence with repairs. It's hard work, the sort of thing he usually objects to with every fiber of his being. So he stops for a rest every so often, wiping his face, which mostly results in streaking it with mud. This time when he sits down on one of the larger stones, he glances over at Saul and quirks an eyebrow. "What are you selling?"

[charming_jerk]

Johnny was trying to help around the Transports area rather than in town, thanks to him being a less than capable diplomat. He was infamous enough there for starting fights and causing trouble as it was. For those who didn't knwow him there, his appearance pegged him easily as a Transport, and they wanted nothing from him.

Spotting someone working alone, he approaches to see if there's something he can do. He looks a bit tired and haggard, but who among the Transports didn't lately?

"Hey. Need some help with that?"

[maddeninghatter]

[ He'd clung to life for weeks in the intensive care unit, victim to the United Earth's brand of biological warfare. And then the bombs had come, and...

Well. The only thing he's recovering from right now is a week-old wound in his side, back again like an old friend. He has been taking great pains to conceal it from his friends, making a point of coughing a bit and complaining, as if he still had a post-flu tickle in his throat. But this subterfuge necessitates going out clandestinely to fetch bandages to change his dressings. The amount of rubble on the ground makes picking his way difficult, however, so he has to use his cane more obviously than he would like, and then Mad Hatter's power, too.

It's tiring. He stops a moment to rest, leaning on his cane like an old man. Which is when he becomes aware of the tell-tale sounds of construction. Things being moved and built. ]

Why, helping with repairs? How nice. With hard work and plucky perseverance, I'm sure this city can be rebuilt good as new!

[ Emily weighs in: ]

JUST IN TIME TO BE BOMBED AGAIN!

[lazyinlove]

Stanley almost drops the stone he's carrying, far more jumpy after the recent events than he usually is. His friends used to try and fail to get similar reactions out of him, but these days he doesn't like surprises very much. He catches the stone, though, so it doesn't break any toes, and hastily sets it down.

Wiping a mixture of sweat and rain off his face, he stops to give this stranger a glance over. Okay. Clearly not a local. Far less likely to put a gypsy curse on him just for existing. And really, he'd rather earn his gypsy curses. So Stanley shrugs, agreeable enough. "Sure."

[lazyinlove]

[That gets an eyebrow raise, but not the sort of reaction a creepy old clown man puppeteer is probably used to getting. Still. It's a good enough excuse to take a break. The stones are heavy, and he's tired from moving them around.

Stanley sits on one, quietly. The best way to deal with crazy people is usually to take it easy, don't ignore them, but don't engage their hostile puppets either. At least it works on bums and English teachers, anyway. It's probably fine for lost clowns of some sort of futuristic past world or whatever. The dude's style is pretty weird.]

Sup.

[maddeninghatter]

[ No, it's not the sort of reaction he was looking for - and he was looking. The lack of reaction is odd, as is the relative silence of this person's movements; Break doesn't know which way to "look," as he usually does, to hide his blindness from strangers. He compensates by inclining his head down, and brushing an invisible piece of lint from his raincoat sleeve.

He feels as though he's facing into a void. There's an emptiness to the other's presence, Break fancies. There's no one he can talk to, not that he would, if there was. He confides in no one...

Which is exactly what this person feels like at the moment: no one. ]

Now, now Emily. None of that.

[ He pats his doll, stroking her long hair. ]

One day they'll sort out how to resurrect buildings as easily as people, and then we'll have nothing at all to worry about, hmm?

[lazyinlove]

They can't.

[He's not trying to be argumentative, here. There's no tone, no stress on the words. They're said as matter-of-factly as if Break had asked for the time instead. And followed up with another quiet movement. This time, a shrug.]

You die when you die here. They just pull you from a second earlier when they hit reset.

[charming_jerk]

"Sorry, man, didn't mean to sneak up on ya." He walks over to see how far along Stanley is, and where he can help. "The people in town don't want me around, so I figured I'd see who around here needs it. I'm Johnny, by the way."

[paracosmic]

Babydoll has been wandering the city. She's made a pretty extensive mental map of the entire thing, remember where things are and what could be the next target for another bombing from the UE, which she isn't excited about (who would be?). She's lucky she didn't come down with any sort of cold, because with the hostility the Transports had been met with by the UE not too long after the virus hit, she would have been toast.

By the time she makes her way towards the ruins, she's surprised to see Stanley fixing the wall. He just didn't look like the type, not to her. Her first impression had been innocent, she didn't think of him as a threat.

She watches him for a moment from a distance, enjoying the silence before approaching him.

"I didn't see you in the catacombs. It's good you're okay," she had made several rounds of the catacombs, but she had been distracted enough with people who were wounded or sick. She didn't think much of it, they weren't friends, but she does like to keep track of who she meets.

[lazyinlove]

"Yeah. You don't really blend in." Stan replies, shrugging. Ow. Ugh, his shoulders already hurt. He rolls them a few times to loosen them back up, and offers Johnny a hand along with his name. "Stanley."

[lazyinlove]

It's no real surprise that she didn't see him down there, as far as Stanley is concerned. He spent more time huddled in corners just shaking and staring around blankly than he did interacting with other people. Mostly, that happened when he tripped on someone else, or they approached him.

At the woman's words, Stan gently puts a dirty palm up to the wound on his head, as if he'd forgotten about it until she mentioned his health. All in all, though, the damage he'd sustained from the experience was definitely minor. Someone he'd gotten off easy.

He nods, acknowledging the greeting. And eyes her up and down once too, mostly checking for wounds, but it's not as if the view is terrible either.

"Thanks. You too."

[paracosmic]

Babydoll takes a few steps closer to him, looking over his project of trying to restore the wall. He's doing a good job, at least in her opinion. She's seen a lot of damaged things, inside and at home. She's hoping the city she was trying to save was still upright, because if it wasn't, it would be her fault. Her friends needed her. They needed each other.

She notices his once-over, tilting her head at him, acknowledging it. Not many things go unnoticed when she's around.

"You did well," the bombs weren't pretty, the gas was even worse, in her opinion. "I know what bombs are like, but the gasses were ... unexpected."

[5055034455]

And Saul isn't the type so stand around watching people, but both his official and unofficial private investigators are out of commission (the former isn't here at all; the latter he's avoiding like a cheap Vegas buffet), so he's taken matters into his own hands.

Not that Stanley seems worth investigating — Saul's just curious. A little surprised, too.

When he's finally addressed, Saul gestures at Stanley's work area.

"That's some good work you're doing, kid."

[lazyinlove]

Oh. Well. That's a new one. In fact, he's pretty sure that no one has ever said that to him before in his life. About anything. For a moment, Stan's taken aback.

"Thanks."

After deciding that this dude doesn't seem like any immidiate sort of threat, Stanley reaches for the water he brought along and takes a swig of that, curiously eying Saul back now.

[5055034455]

"Sure."

Saul's not too great with genuine compliments, so he decides to step on over and distract himself by investigating what Stanley's accomplished so far.

"You do this kinda thing often?"

[lazyinlove]

"First time."

Actually, he's pretty happy that things aren't falling over and scattering and spontaneously combusting. He never would have guessed that he could manage this kind of thing. It just sort of...happened. But there's no good way to explain that to someone else. It doesn't even make sense to him.

[5055034455]

Huh. He thought this whole scene looked a little strange, but — first time? Really?

Saul turns on the tip of his foot to face Stanley again, one eyebrow arched.

"Ever?"

[lazyinlove]

"You're used to being bombed?"

She doesn't come off like just any normal girl it's true, but that's still a surprise. He can't imagine anyone being used to it.

He's also not sure he should let the compliment slide when technically, it's not true. So he glances away, pretends to be interested in his blueprints again.

"I hid."

[lazyinlove]

That gets a shrug in reply, and an expression along the lines of 'hey, what can you do?'

"I've seen blueprints before. On TV."

[5055034455]

That —

Congratulations, kid. You've got Saul looking mighty confused. Then again, he knows this feeling: this is how he felt when Jesse told him he suddenly knew chemistry. Maybe this is the same thing?

"Photographic memory?"

[lazyinlove]

"I wish. My dad could stop tweaking about my report card if all I had to do was memorize the answer keys."

Which is a weird thing to say, since it doesn't apply around here at all. But it's the first thing that comes to mind, as far as the uses of photographic memory might go.

[5055034455]

"Or you could just, you know, memorize the actual information."

Hypothetical photogenic memory, and this kid would still cheat.

Yep. This building thing is definitely a fluke.

[lazyinlove]

"Waste of hard drive space."

Stan shrugs, and tips his face back into the rain. He clears his throat. It's probably toxic or something, but now that the death plague and bombing is over he's starting to feel a little gross. Hot. The rain feels nice.

It also doesn't stop him from reaching into a pocket and pulling out a cigarette box. Which looks like a pencil case at first glance, but definitely contains cigarettes. Some hand rolled, some not. The one he chooses is, and it's got an herbal scent to it. He glances curiously at the man again as he lights it up, taking the guy in. Hmm.

"Used cars, or TV lawyer?"

[5055034455]

Welp.

"I may be a TV lawyer, but I'm pretty sure brains don't work that way."

He steps back over to Stan, maybe getting a little too close, so he can inspect whatever the kid just lit up. "Where'd you get that?"