#005 [ACTION]

[crowsong]

[If anyone's out and about in Discedo, they might be treated to the somewhat eerie sight of Gin skulking about in his ever-present long black, crow-like trench coat and matching fedora. His hair isn't let loose today, gathered and hidden underneath his coat. He looks mildly less threatening today, in as much as a shady man constantly followed by ominously cawing birds can look nonthreatening, as he carried a lumpy bundle of cloth (on closer inspection, it might be made up of a pair of shirts) that clattered and tinkled with a metallic sound as he walked. Judging by the place he emerged from, it can be assumed that the sound was caused by him lumping together so many tins of canned food into his makeshift bag.

He looks almost as unfriendly as ever, unsmiling and perpetually glaring, only every now and then, his glare falters and he reaches up to angrily knuckle his eyes.

Instead of heading back to Dissimulo as quickly as he normally did after acquiring what he needed, he milled about, walking aimlessly through the street.

Care to approach?]

Comments

[entreats]

[ Ange hardly cares about being out where the monsters are. After being stuck in this place for so long she's used to their presence, and it's not like she can't deal a mean kick or even use the gun she got quite some time ago if something happens.

Still, it's always more surprising to see a person than a monster out on the streets. She can't help but glance over at the man, raising an eyebrow but not saying anything just yet - she's staring quite obviously though. ]

[crowsong]

[He might not notice her, initially, because he's too busy trying to clear his vision, blinking several times before rubbing at his eyes again.

When he does notice her, he turns a glare on her. That seems to be Gin's reaction to most people. Still, this glare is fairly weak. It doesn't take him too long to recognize her.]

Hn.

[Not much for conversation, is he?]

[entreats]

[ At least that doesn't bother Ange, she's a little on the quiet side herself usually. Except when she gets curious, like in this case. ]

Out by yourself? [ Her tone is fairly casual - deadpan, even. ]

[crowsong]

Yeah. [He'll match her tone, then.

He steps closer to the nearest surface he can lean on, casually, while he spoke— perhaps the wall of a building. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it provides him with some support.

He gives the makeshift bag a little shake, so the tins clanged together.] Got hungry.

So, what're you up to. [He thinks it's only fair to ask her a question back. He's also half-curious if she'd recognize his voice.]

[entreats]

[ It souns vaguely familiar at the very least - a little more and she can place it, most likely, but for now she's just calmly observing him for the most part. ]

Walking. [ a shrug, as if it's nothing special. ] I can't stand it to just sit around all day, after all.

[crowsong]

Not a lot of sight-seeing you can do around here.

Well, I can't really blame you; outrunning those beasts starts looking pretty good after staying holed up for months. At the very least, it keeps you in shape.

[entreats]

Exactly. And they're hardly scary anymore after you've done it a few times. [ She's saying it as if it's truly nothing, really. ]

It isn't often that you hear someone agreeing on that though.

[crowsong]

[Impressive, but he would expect that from someone who's been here for so long.]

I'd blame it on a difference in priorities. [He smirks.

The crows following him have slowly begun to gather on the top of the wall he's leaning on.

Gin pays them no mind.]

Freedom of movement or the comfort of confinement.

It's what sets apart those content to remain imprisoned for the security it provides from those who call no one master, not even fear. While most are comfortable hiding in their fear-wrought cages, some of us just have to soar, no matter the price. [As if on cue, all seven crows took off, in a flurry of glistening black feathers, abandoning their perch for the sky.]

[entreats]

[ Ange is actually watching the crows as he speaks. Not that it's that strange for someone to be surrounded by them - she's seen stranger in this place, really - but it's still enough to catch her attention. ]

.. Would anyone truly be content with just staying in a cage? [ She's starting to get the idea she's spoken to him before by now, though. ]

[crowsong]

[He doesn't cast a glance their way, perfectly accustomed to their presence; for now, he's more interested in the conversation, anyway.]

Unless they've never known freedom, I think there'd have to be some level of self-deception involved. Bet they'd have to give themselves a pat on the back each day for staying inside and reminding themselves how much better they have it inside their safe little cages—

[Rather suddenly, one of his legs give out and he falls off-balance, pitching sideways then forwards, the hand on the wall doing little to stabilize him as he has nothing to grab. He just barely catches himself before he falls face-first into the ground and attempts to regain some semblance of composure. Perhaps stopping to chat wasn't the best course of action...]

[entreats]

[ She's thinking about what he's saying, and she's really already busy formulating an answer in her head while he's still talking, but then something happens. Something she didn't quite expect from the kind of composture he was putting up, so a brief look of surprise does flash across her face when she stares at him - but not stepping any closer. ]

.. Are you okay?

[crowsong]

...

[He's really quite prideful and that's immediately obvious from the pathetic resistance he's been displaying: immediately after regaining his footing, he resumed behaving in the same stoic manner he had before.

The question irritates him and it shows in the unpleasant curl of his lips. After a moment, he decides there's no point in not answering nor in carrying on as if nothing was wrong, as she could already see there was something not quite right with him.]

No. I think the scientists are messing with me. It's either that or I'm coming down with something.

[entreats]

The sad part is that the former is much more likely than the latter in a place like this. [ She's not always good-natured towards the scientists, after all - you could even say only rarely.

Ange's not enough of a good person to immediately feel bad or worried about a near-stranger, but there might be the faintest hint of it, just that. ]

What exactly feels strange?

[crowsong]

[Nor does Gin want anyone feeling sorry for him.

Refusing help would be foolish at this point, however.]

I suspected botulism, possibly from tainted canned food, but I'll take your word for it: I didn't expect the scientists to be so picky about their test subjects, however.

[Despite suspecting that, there's a makeshift bag full of canned food right beside him. It's not like he has a lot of options, really.]

It's getting hard to see and my legs feel weak. [He initially assumed the weakness in his legs was from staying inside for so long, hence the long time spent walking around. That didn't seem to do him much good either.] If it's their doing, there's no point in seeking treatment, is there.

[entreats]

Yeah. If this is their doing, it won't be cured until in.. a week or so, maybe. Usually effects caused by them don't last any longer than that.

[ A completely objective assessment of the situation, really - as if she's talking about something that doesn't involve someone being in trouble. ]

.. Can you even make it back to where you're staying like this?

[crowsong]

[He considers making an attempt to stand up. He goes as far as shifting just some of his weight onto his feet, before his legs start shaking.

Deciding this was a futile effort, he sinks back into a sitting position and jams his hands into his pockets.]

Comforting. [The tone is sarcastic. Still, he doesn't seem too alarmed, himself.

Well, unless the effects wear off faster than expected or he suddenly becomes very good at crawling, the answer to her question would be "no."]

Why the question.

[entreats]

[ For a moment she gives him a cynical stare, but then she speaks up - her own voice filled with sarcasm as well, since the answer to 'why the question' should be obvious. ]

Because I randomly felt like asking it.

[ a sigh and she exchanges the sarcasm for her usual deadpan again. ]

It's obviously because I'm not just going to let you sit here and become monster food. Unless you're a masochist who enjoys that kind of thing, then you can sit here for as long as you want, I guess.

[crowsong]

How charitable of you. [Is a "thank you" too much to ask, Gin?]

No, can't say I feel like being ripped apart anytime soon.

[entreats]

I know, I might as well be the patron saint of this city by now.

[ The deadpan doesn't seem to let up for even a moment, but at least she saunters over to him for now. ]

The place you're staying at is not too far away from here, I'd hope?

[crowsong]

A real Mother Teresa. Saint Ange's got a nice ring to it too. [He smirks.]

Tough luck, it's nowhere near here. [He blinks a few times before reaching up to rub at his eyes again with his right hand, the left still hidden in his pocket.] Damn...

Well, it doesn't matter. I'm a vagabond.

Any place with a roof's fine.

[entreats]

For a guy to admit this shamelessly that he's practically a hobo by nature, I'm not sure if I should find it admirable or not.

[ She seems in thought for a moment though before coming to a conclusion. ]

.. My 'apartment' [ calling it that sounds way too luxury for this place, after all ] is right around the corner here. And I need someone to babysit my cat either way.

[crowsong]

["Hobo."

He can make light of himself, but having someone who's practically a stranger take him less than seriously...
Normally, a comment like that would earn a glare at the very least, if not a gun aimed at the insolent one's head, but considering his current position, his pride will have to shuffle off to the side and give preservation of life center stage.
So, rather than get mad, he just looks amused.]

Hmph. Lucky I'm not out to win your admiration, then.

[He makes a half-amused, disbelieving sound at the word 'apartment.' It really was too much, even when spoken in such a self-aware manner.

Hadn't he been humiliated enough? Babysitting a cat...
Pitch black. Everything fizzled out of view and he was left staring at nothing. A look of fear crossed his face, briefly, before he settled for a neutral expression.
With the incredibly limited ammunition provided and the unpredictable predators that call this place home, his chances of survival alone were nil. How could he refuse?]

I'm game.

[entreats]

[ With Ange it's always a mix of this, really - both the bluntness that borders on being downright rude, yet there's some part of her below it that at least cares about people on a basic level or she wouldn't even have bothered with any of this to start with.

She bends over. ]

Here, I'll help you up, but you need to cooperate as well or it will just be useless. My strength has its limits too, of course.

[crowsong]

[He's not too thrilled about the attitude, even if it can be amusing, but he appreciates the caring nature. At least for as long as it can benefit him.]

Yeah, yeah...

[He doesn't need a lecture. He'll make another attempt at getting up, trying to give himself some extra support with just one hand, pressing his shoulders back into the wall to keep himself from falling forwards.]

[entreats]

[ She'll grab him by the arms to hoist him up further, before putting one of his arms over her shoulders so she can act as a support while he walks. If she's fazed by the physical contact, she doesn't show it - her pokerface is still perfectly in place. ]

There, you can make it just around the corner like this, right? If you pass out, I'm just going to leave you behind.

[ Probably not. But she likes to pretend she could. ]