Is this a "Grift, please leave for the remainder of the evening and most likely part of the night" guest, or... actually, I must admit, I can't think of any other type of guest. What's going on?
[When Grift had written in the journal, he was just heading home from the Wilderness, where he had spent all day, quite happily. First he watched a movie - a gangster film no less - and then went looting. By the time he swung back into his apartment, there were ten hats stacked tightly on his head, and a number of canvas bags looped around his arms. Closing the journal, he put the stack of hats onto the edge of his bed, and tucked the pile of boxes of shoes he had acquired by the boxes of champagne stacked in the corner.
Amongst the mass of clothing in the bags, there was a teddy bear, a kazoo, a condensed tower of lego, various shiny looking knick knacks and a small frying pan. He had been disappointed that there was no place for firearms to loot, but he had settled for novelty salt and pepper grinders instead.
He liked the mall, he really did. Hopefully Chapel's apparent gigantic ornament to the Lord wouldn't darken his day.]
[Chapel hadn't even been to the mall yet. He'd spent some time working on the cross down in the scavengers' yard, fixing up what he could. Gene would probably be helpful if that kind of thing was his job, but it had taken almost all of Chapel's accumulated money just to pay for the thing. Further installments would have to wait. Afterward, he'd wrapped it up in some canvas and straps he'd purchased in the marketplace, then written to Grift and headed home.
He was looking forward to showing off his new acquisition with absurd amusement. His roommate might not like church decorations, but he had a feeling Grift would feel otherwise about what was inside.
Hefting the cross over his shoulder, not paying much heed to the mannequins that insisted on following him around, he grinned as he entered the apartment and saw the sheer mass of stuff that had accumulated in his absence. Apparently, he'd been right to mention the need for space.]
Been shopping, Grift? It's a little late to stock up for winter.
Oh, [Grift says, cheerfully,] it's never too late to stock up. Have you been to the Wilderness yet? [He shakes his head in amazement.] They've got everything there.
[He leaps to his feet, ignoring the chorus going on behind him (SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! HATS! SHOES!) to pad in Chapel's direction, staring at the cross in shock.]
Oh--Jesus, Chapel. Couldn't you have just gotten a necklace like normal people?
Not yet--I've been busy with this. I might have to pay it a visit later.
[He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Grift's reaction, even if it did inspire a chuckle. He hadn't expected his roommate to fall over himself with enthusiasm, but apparently the new acquisition was a little much for him.]
A necklace? Hardly! Nah, that sort of thing is for the ladies. I think this is going to fit in here just fine.
It's not going to be a problem, is it?
[And in the background, the mannequin chorus started cooing over his holy endowment.]
No, earrings are for the ladies. Giant crosses are for the insane. [Grift squints at it, trying to decide whether he finds it offensive or just strange.]
Is it going to be a problem? Hm. Yes, that's a good one. Let's wait for me to catch on fire, and then I'll be able to give you a proper answer.
[He reaches out as if to touch it, then pauses and retracts his hand, almost afraid it's going to bite him. Behind him, his own chorus begins to chant about hellfire and Grift's imminent place in it. He can hear something about bones blackening and organs curling, and he frowns disapprovingly at them.]
What, the fact that it could save your soul isn't enough?
[It was a rhetorical question. Before Grift could answer, Chapel reached over and with a flick of his wrist, unclasped the main buckled that held the canvas wrapping closed. It slid away to reveal the cross's true nature--rusted and in need of repair, but unmistakably dangerous.
Casually, he reached over and flipped open the right arm compartment to reveal three guns in the slots. More were ready to be filled, but these were all he had so far. Then he just stood back and waited for Grift's reaction.]
[The sight of the clearly weapon-like cross elicits a loud gasp from Grift, and he leans forward, eyes shining. Grift loves many things in life. Easy women. Liquor. Hats. Material pleasures. Good food.
One of these things are large guns. Small guns, too. Anything that booms and causes dreadful harm, he finds fascinating. For the instance, his elaborate speech and carefully composed face drops in amazement.]
Oh, you've got to be... you're... this--oh! You blasphemous devil, you.
[He contemplates it for a moment more, a faint smile on his face.]
[It was a damn heavy piece of equipment, after all. But if he could handle it, Grift probably could. If not--well, they were both grown adults.
Chapel didn't mind letting Grift see it. In its current state, there wasn't a lot he could do to mess it up, and Chapel wasn't a selfish guy. He felt pretty content just having it here, like it was something he'd been missing for a while and just hadn't noticed.]
[When Chapel gives permission, Grift doesn't waste any time asking questions. He takes it from him, gingerly at first, then realizing how heavy it is, handles it with far less dexterity. His knees buckle underneath the weight at first, but the expression upon his face is far too happy to betray any humiliation about that when his roommate seems able to swing it about like a mad man. Regaining his balance, he checks it out, fingertips skimming every surface. Rusty, but it'll sure be smooth once it gets repai--
A ridge in the cross?]
Helo, there...
[It opens up, reveals a machine gun and Grift in turn reveals a side of himself that he had managed to keep hidden for far too long. Eyes filled with glee, he lets out a shriek that's positively girlish.]
God Almighty! A machine gun! An honest-to-god machine gun! Aw, it's gorgeous.
[He runs his hands across it, the touch of his fingers far more reverent than he has handled anything else--or a real cross, come to think of it.]
[All right, this was just adorable. Which was a very strange way to think of his debauchery-loving friend, but accurate all the same.]
Ha! You're going to make me blush. Glad you like it. I take it you won't mind having it around.
[He reaches into his jacket and takes out a cigarette. Ah--between it, the cross guns and their combined liquor stash, he had most of what he needed.]
It was mine, I'm pretty sure--before the sphere. I remembered something wrapped up a lot like this was, and how many of these things do you normally see?
Mind? Oh, no. Not as long as you give me a demonstration and some point. [He gingerly lays the thing on the ground and stretches the arm that had held the bulk of its weight--Grift never thought of himself as a weak man, but the thing is heavier than what's comfortable.]
So, yours, huh? Now, do you think these sorts of weapons are common, or was this one hell of a commission? [He looks thoughtful for a moment, wondering if there's anybody who takes commissions in the black market. He'll have to figure that one out.]
We'll see. It's not like I've remembered how to use it.
[He thinks he won't have much trouble with it--muscle memory is like that. But he's not about to make promises he can't, or won't, keep.]
Ha. I can't imagine a lot of people carrying this around. Can't say whether it's one of a kind or not, though. Or where it came from--I doubt I made it.
[He knows weapons, and they feel familiar enough that they were definitely a part of his life--a gunman's gospel. But he doubts he's that much of a genius, and that's what it would take to build something like this.]
Could be that I picked the name because of this. Subconsciously. It is interesting, though.
What's there to remember? Besides, finding out all of its tricks and foibles will only be half the fun.
[He topples backwards back onto his bed, tossing his hat off so that it spins in the air and catches it with a jaunty flick of his hand. Reaching into his bag, he extracts the teddy bear - dressed in very formal gear with a rather solemn expression on its face - and tosses it onto the small table next to him, right beside his gun.
What Grift doesn't ask is why a holy man like Chapel would need a gun like that. Either he was protecting an ancient ruby of the Gods, or his life was just as colourful as Grift suspected his own was.]
I've heard quite often that the names we pick mean something. [He shrugs.] But then I see women who go by the name of Fred and men who go by the name of Juliet, and I begin to doubt this theory
[He stares at the gun for a moment more, searching his memory for what he knew of firearms. To make something like that, they must have come a long way, he thinks, but then he remembers that vague, nagging snippet of his dream, the image of the mushroom cloud, and wonders exactly how much firepower this place harbours.]
It's a big one. Still, you never know how many people here are carrying guns, and there's only one solution.
[He takes his hat off once more, and puts it on top of the teddy bear.]
[Grift was an interesting guy to watch. Chapel wouldn't call himself an expert or anything, but he thought he knew a little about people, and you could learn a few things about them just from watching how they move and act—even if you never hear what they actually say. Something about Gift's casual attitude, at odds with the look in his eyes made him wonder.
But Grift's story was his own to tell.]
Maybe people like Juliet and Fred like confusing people—that's what means something to them.
I'd kind of admire that. It must be nice to lead such a simple life, even here.
[He picked up the bear by one of its fuzzy little arms. It was more suited for a child, but there weren't many kids here, and wasn't that wrong and right at the same time. He wouldn't have predicted that it would appeal to Grift, but his roommate had a lot of surprises in him.]
Guns are just a tool. What really matters is the person wielding one. Bullets can do a lot, but they can't save the world. Or destroy it.
The goal to confuse someone... [Grift considers this for a moment, thinks of what fun it is to baffle and bewilder others with little tricks, the thrill of picking idle pockets.] Huh. I like it.
[Still lying on the bed, he contemplates a simple life.] Oh, I'd say it's more than possible to lead one here. I'd go as far to say that my own is fairly simple. Comparatively, anyhow. There is only so many ways to remain simple when the world around you is constantly changing.
[At the mention of destroying the world, tilts his head away from Chapel, staring at the wall directly beside the bed.]
Oh, [he says,] I don't know. Guns do a pretty good job. It can be the most noble man behind a breaking down pistol, and chances are, he still won't win against something a little stronger.
[He shifts.] Why, thank you. I quite like him myself. Handsome little devil.
[He fiddled with the bear for a few more seconds before setting it aside. It was amusing enough, and he didn't object to having it in his space—heck, it might even make a better roommate than Grift. It'd be quiet, clean, wouldn't touch his stuff.
Definitely fuzzier.]
You do give a guy a few things to think about, Grift. Which is why I think I'm headed back out—if I want to be able to use this, I have to fix it back up.
[He slapped a hand on the left arm of the cross, giving it a fond look. He had a feeling Grift would be all over it the second he left the room, but as long as he didn't break anything, Chapel didn't mind.]
I'm going to see if I can beg a few parts from the marketplace. Need anything while I'm out?
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sixthsinner) wrote2010-01-06 06:45 pm
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...A cross? How big--
Never mind, I don't want to know. That better be one fine cross, that's all I'm saying.
He's thinking about creepy God decorations, isn't he?
He's convinced chapel's gonna, like. lie on it. Or something. XD
I think we all know that Grift is the one who will stroke it lovingly
QUICKLOG
Amongst the mass of clothing in the bags, there was a teddy bear, a kazoo, a condensed tower of lego, various shiny looking knick knacks and a small frying pan. He had been disappointed that there was no place for firearms to loot, but he had settled for novelty salt and pepper grinders instead.
He liked the mall, he really did. Hopefully Chapel's apparent gigantic ornament to the Lord wouldn't darken his day.]
QUICKLOG
He was looking forward to showing off his new acquisition with absurd amusement. His roommate might not like church decorations, but he had a feeling Grift would feel otherwise about what was inside.
Hefting the cross over his shoulder, not paying much heed to the mannequins that insisted on following him around, he grinned as he entered the apartment and saw the sheer mass of stuff that had accumulated in his absence. Apparently, he'd been right to mention the need for space.]
Been shopping, Grift? It's a little late to stock up for winter.
QUICKLOG
[He leaps to his feet, ignoring the chorus going on behind him (SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! HATS! SHOES!) to pad in Chapel's direction, staring at the cross in shock.]
Oh--Jesus, Chapel. Couldn't you have just gotten a necklace like normal people?
QUICKLOG
[He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Grift's reaction, even if it did inspire a chuckle. He hadn't expected his roommate to fall over himself with enthusiasm, but apparently the new acquisition was a little much for him.]
A necklace? Hardly! Nah, that sort of thing is for the ladies. I think this is going to fit in here just fine.
It's not going to be a problem, is it?
[And in the background, the mannequin chorus started cooing over his holy endowment.]
QUICKLOG
Is it going to be a problem? Hm. Yes, that's a good one. Let's wait for me to catch on fire, and then I'll be able to give you a proper answer.
[He reaches out as if to touch it, then pauses and retracts his hand, almost afraid it's going to bite him. Behind him, his own chorus begins to chant about hellfire and Grift's imminent place in it. He can hear something about bones blackening and organs curling, and he frowns disapprovingly at them.]
So, what exactly am I to like about this?
QUICKLOG
[It was a rhetorical question. Before Grift could answer, Chapel reached over and with a flick of his wrist, unclasped the main buckled that held the canvas wrapping closed. It slid away to reveal the cross's true nature--rusted and in need of repair, but unmistakably dangerous.
Casually, he reached over and flipped open the right arm compartment to reveal three guns in the slots. More were ready to be filled, but these were all he had so far. Then he just stood back and waited for Grift's reaction.]
QUICKLOG
One of these things are large guns. Small guns, too. Anything that booms and causes dreadful harm, he finds fascinating. For the instance, his elaborate speech and carefully composed face drops in amazement.]
Oh, you've got to be... you're... this--oh! You blasphemous devil, you.
[He contemplates it for a moment more, a faint smile on his face.]
...Can I touch it?
QUICKLOG
...not literally.
[It was a damn heavy piece of equipment, after all. But if he could handle it, Grift probably could. If not--well, they were both grown adults.
Chapel didn't mind letting Grift see it. In its current state, there wasn't a lot he could do to mess it up, and Chapel wasn't a selfish guy. He felt pretty content just having it here, like it was something he'd been missing for a while and just hadn't noticed.]
QUICKLOG
A ridge in the cross?]
Helo, there...
[It opens up, reveals a machine gun and Grift in turn reveals a side of himself that he had managed to keep hidden for far too long. Eyes filled with glee, he lets out a shriek that's positively girlish.]
God Almighty! A machine gun! An honest-to-god machine gun! Aw, it's gorgeous.
[He runs his hands across it, the touch of his fingers far more reverent than he has handled anything else--or a real cross, come to think of it.]
QUICKLOG
Ha! You're going to make me blush. Glad you like it. I take it you won't mind having it around.
[He reaches into his jacket and takes out a cigarette. Ah--between it, the cross guns and their combined liquor stash, he had most of what he needed.]
It was mine, I'm pretty sure--before the sphere. I remembered something wrapped up a lot like this was, and how many of these things do you normally see?
QUICKLOG
So, yours, huh? Now, do you think these sorts of weapons are common, or was this one hell of a commission? [He looks thoughtful for a moment, wondering if there's anybody who takes commissions in the black market. He'll have to figure that one out.]
Certainly gives a new ring to your name, though.
QUICKLOG
[He thinks he won't have much trouble with it--muscle memory is like that. But he's not about to make promises he can't, or won't, keep.]
Ha. I can't imagine a lot of people carrying this around. Can't say whether it's one of a kind or not, though. Or where it came from--I doubt I made it.
[He knows weapons, and they feel familiar enough that they were definitely a part of his life--a gunman's gospel. But he doubts he's that much of a genius, and that's what it would take to build something like this.]
Could be that I picked the name because of this. Subconsciously. It is interesting, though.
Re: QUICKLOG
[He topples backwards back onto his bed, tossing his hat off so that it spins in the air and catches it with a jaunty flick of his hand. Reaching into his bag, he extracts the teddy bear - dressed in very formal gear with a rather solemn expression on its face - and tosses it onto the small table next to him, right beside his gun.
What Grift doesn't ask is why a holy man like Chapel would need a gun like that. Either he was protecting an ancient ruby of the Gods, or his life was just as colourful as Grift suspected his own was.]
I've heard quite often that the names we pick mean something. [He shrugs.] But then I see women who go by the name of Fred and men who go by the name of Juliet, and I begin to doubt this theory
[He stares at the gun for a moment more, searching his memory for what he knew of firearms. To make something like that, they must have come a long way, he thinks, but then he remembers that vague, nagging snippet of his dream, the image of the mushroom cloud, and wonders exactly how much firepower this place harbours.]
It's a big one. Still, you never know how many people here are carrying guns, and there's only one solution.
[He takes his hat off once more, and puts it on top of the teddy bear.]
Bigger guns.
QUICKLOG
But Grift's story was his own to tell.]
Maybe people like Juliet and Fred like confusing people—that's what means something to them.
I'd kind of admire that. It must be nice to lead such a simple life, even here.
[He picked up the bear by one of its fuzzy little arms. It was more suited for a child, but there weren't many kids here, and wasn't that wrong and right at the same time. He wouldn't have predicted that it would appeal to Grift, but his roommate had a lot of surprises in him.]
Guns are just a tool. What really matters is the person wielding one. Bullets can do a lot, but they can't save the world. Or destroy it.
Nice bear.
QUICKLOG
[Still lying on the bed, he contemplates a simple life.] Oh, I'd say it's more than possible to lead one here. I'd go as far to say that my own is fairly simple. Comparatively, anyhow. There is only so many ways to remain simple when the world around you is constantly changing.
[At the mention of destroying the world, tilts his head away from Chapel, staring at the wall directly beside the bed.]
Oh, [he says,] I don't know. Guns do a pretty good job. It can be the most noble man behind a breaking down pistol, and chances are, he still won't win against something a little stronger.
[He shifts.] Why, thank you. I quite like him myself. Handsome little devil.
QUICKLOG
Definitely fuzzier.]
You do give a guy a few things to think about, Grift. Which is why I think I'm headed back out—if I want to be able to use this, I have to fix it back up.
[He slapped a hand on the left arm of the cross, giving it a fond look. He had a feeling Grift would be all over it the second he left the room, but as long as he didn't break anything, Chapel didn't mind.]
I'm going to see if I can beg a few parts from the marketplace. Need anything while I'm out?