#pul1tzer

[aranostra]

@pul1tzer nonverbal #08 reversed for armand

Armand slips through the window like a stray cat, finds his way to Daniel's bed and sits there silently for a while. Some time has passed, yes, he can see the time in Daniel's features as he sleeps.

Perhaps he should let Daniel sleep, but he is impatient. He leans over to turn on the bedside lamp.

"You should invest in a security system." Not that it would stop him, but Armand has concerns about others. Unrelated to the first point, the real reason he's here, "I heard about your divorce."

[choicescreen]

@pul1tzer

the booth upholstery is sticky. christ, do they ever clean these places. the bridge of her nose wrinkles, but she's certainly seen her fair share of worse dive bars.

when her almost-not-quite-maybe friend throws himself into the other side, bronca smirks around the bottleneck of her beer. "do you ever not look like absolute dogshit, molloy?"

[feminurge]

looks like we got a crossed wire situation. from @pul1tzer

"is tha' wha' it is?" she drawls softly as she keeps circling him; the delicate line of her nose raised a bit higher than usual to capture heavy cigarette smoke and jasmine. she likes him. a fine specimen whose mind has yet to unravel beneath the weight of knowledge. she has seen lesser men tumble down under the pressure of what it means to witness immortality. some, she has brought on the brink of insanity just for the fun of it. they would scream at the gods, they would whimper for a better chance at life. they would pray and beg and demand to be offered amnesia... the only way to live a normal life. as if normal was something to be coveted.

upon every turn, she disappears into the tall shadow he casts on the ground. she finds that amusing too: like plants reaching for the sun, mankind has grown taller & taller, desperate to touch the stars. she wonders if he, too, wishes he could forget all that he has already forgotten; she wonders and for a moment that wondering takes the shape of a hand being dropped in a bucket of memories. it demands great effort to force the fingers into inaction; nothing is grasped. his mind remains his own: she'll only take his words.

"well, enlighten me then, cowboy." her smile, a soft curve of pinkish gloss… just large enough to uncover tiny fangs that are no more capable of harm than a knife's blade. like any other intelligent predator, she shows teeth as a reminder that biting down is a possibility, not a promise. after all, she likes him. it would be deeply bizarre to make him a chew toy unable to bark back at her. still, she wants him to start talking, and it seems teeth get him stammering faster. "wha' is it you reckon i got wrong?" @pul1tzer

[vitalphenomena]

@pul1tzer said: disappearing is not as easy as they make it look on tv.

LILA HAS ALWAYS LOVED THE TELEVISION. Even when it was in technicolor, she was fascinated, drawn to programs indiscriminately like a moth is to lights, even those attached to traps.

And it does rot your brain, you know, even when you're undead, even when your heart isn't properly pumping human blood, even when you'll never age and decay like your would-have-been peers. Lila spent a handful of years isolated from society by Dr. Richard Hayes; her understanding of reality, the way things actually work, was further distorted by the cursed television.

So Daniel's wry comment feels more like a particularly scathing call-out than anything else. It makes Lila grin.

They sit across from each other at the Harris-Hayes's household's wooden kitchen table. It is a waste of a dining space, as the Harris-Hayeses only eat out, so to speak. It's not like they're laying their victims out on the table's flat surface and feasting all together like animals from a troth. How barbaric.

Would be good for family bonding, though.

<<I guess not,>> she shrugs loosely, only mildly interested. <<Not if you found us. But we really did try our best. Are you good at your job, or something?>>