Event Log | Days 18-20

[doomcame]

WHO: K, Squalo, Taissa, Chloe & Cat
WHAT: Cabin fever, but inside a jail. The above get stuck after seeking shelter from the storm.
WHEN: Days 18-20
WHERE: VII.C.25 AKA Martin's Jail™
WARNINGS: None yet, please add them to toplevels and I'll update this as necessary.
NOTES: Make your own toplevels within and tag around for shenanigans and bad times.

Comments

Chloe Frazer | Open

[desperate_times_right]

Perhaps not unexpectedly, Chloe is not having a lot of fun in jail.

Day 18 she's still miserable enough with pain that she's eerily quiet when she's not loudly complaining, but by Day 19 she can't take it anymore. After a couple of hours of increasingly annoying (and bizarre, sometimes holding her right arm stiffly and tilting her head as if she's listening for something) fidgeting, Chloe disappears outside for an hour with her new crutch, reappearing with a surprisingly large haul.

Night 19, when a certain furry menace is keeping everyone awake, Chloe is messing around with a bedraggled blue stuffed squid.

On Day 20, despite the things they had seen flying around on Day 19 and K’s minor injury, she disappears outdoors for even longer. Can't be tamed.

Night 19

[doomcame]

Taissa still can't believe that Chloe managed to find so much outside of the bunker, but has to concede that enough determination can go a long way. And determination might be Chloe's superpower.

Tai would be awake this even if a certain feline wasn't zooming around the place but is going to try to distract herself from the added irritation before she smokes her last cigarette.

"Do I want to know what you're doing to that thing?" she asks, joining Chloe in time to watch the improv surgery of the blue squid toy.

Re: Night 19

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe doesn't look up - this is delicate work - but she smiles to acknowledge Taissa’s presence.

“There's a magnet in here, I think. Might be useful.”

[doomcame]

"Good thinking." Taissa makes herself comfortable, or as much as one can, on the floor nearby. She won't disturb the process. "Will you be keeping the rest of him as a trophy after?"

Day 19

[sharktrash]

As she's ready to disappear outside, the doorway is blocked by an arm -- it's more symbolic than anything, but considering the owner of said limb has an axe hoisted in his other hand, it's probably best not to blindly push through.

"And where do you think you're going?"

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe snarls. Don't tell her what to do!

“Touch me and I won't be the only one with a fucked up limb.”

[sharktrash]

Yeah, he's just going to fucking laugh at that, short and unpleasant, and not budge. He's in a shitty mood already, and getting attitude just makes it worse.

"Go ahead, then. Come at me, do your worst. By the way, who do you think spent an entire goddamn day carrying your ungrateful ass? If ya weren't such a fucking princess about it we wouldn't be stuck here in the first place, so how about you sit the hell down instead of trying to get yourself and everyone else here killed?"

[obeir]

K certainly hadn't been keen on the idea of Chloe venturing outside with a raging lightning storm still overhead, but unlike Squalo, he doesn't attempt to hinder her. She surely already knows the risks and can take responsibility for her own safety; he has no interest in keeping anyone prisoner. Bad enough they're stuck in a literal jail.

When she returns a short while later with that haul (what the hell?), he gets up and meets her at the doorway to help her bring everything in. Also to check out the state of her foot since he's become the resident medic. Surprisingly, she seems perfectly fine other than being drenched...?

"Where'd you find all this?" he asks in a wry tone, and offers her the dry, clean towel that he's been saving to make bandages from if needed. Might as well use it for its intended purpose now.

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe’s getting comfortable enough with the crutch now that she can support herself hands-free for a bit, so she gratefully takes the towel to at least try and wring some of the water out of her thick hair. Not much she can do about the wet T-shirt, so you're welcome if you're into that kind of thing.

“Outside,” she answers cheerfully. “I've always been lucky with that kind of stuff.”

[obeir]

How the most injured party member manages to scavenge this successfully during a severe storm with virtually no visibility outside is anyone's guess, but K suspects there may be more to it than luck.

"I'll say."

Chloe's thoroughly wet, clinging clothes haven't exactly escaped his notice, he just isn't the leering type. And he's currently distracted looking through the impressive haul — and also visually checking over her injury.

"Those wet bandages need to be changed. Want me to?" His expression remains the same, but there is a faint teasing note in his tone when he suggests, "Or Taissa?"

Taissa Turner | OPEN

[doomcame]

Taissa doesn't give the air of being the most approachable person, but once you get past that she's happy to engage in conversation to pass what feels like a very long three days. She's seemingly versed in almost every time-wasting game and adept at shadow puppets. She also paces and spends her time familiarizing herself with the interior of the bunker, and stays up late each night before succumbing to sleep.

On Nights 18 and 19, she can be found smoking the two cigarettes given to her by "Ben" and trying to catch some peace away from the Cat and stir-crazy humans.

[obeir]

K's sat nearby, passing the time by using his pocket knife multitool to shape bone fragments into the suture needles Stephanie had mentioned wanting. It's delicate work, and the steady deftness of his hands suggests experience one might not expect from him based on his appearance — he looks like someone accustomed to hard manual labour, and not so much the musician he likes to consider himself.

"You're from New Jersey," he says as he briefly glances up from his work, remembering what Taissa had mentioned on Martin's post. "Does yours have a Gotham City?"

[doomcame]

Taissa's surprised when he speaks up, given the delicate nature of his current work. It's impressive that he doesn't need silence to fully concentrate on such a task.

The question itself confuses her for just a second before she remembers that he had previously said he was from another universe. That assertion still uncomfortably challenges her worldview, considering it comes from this otherwise seemingly level-headed person... and not, for example, the psychopath with the axe guarding the door.

"No," she answers, using the opportunity for conversation to take a break from pacing the jail. "New Jersey doesn't. It's an old nickname for New York, though. I was there for law school."

She makes herself as comfortable as one can while sitting on concrete.
"Is that where you're from?"

[obeir]

"I was visiting Gotham before I woke up here. Where I'm originally 'from' is a Wallace Corporation manufacturing facility," he says with a faint, wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He isn't bothered by this fact, but he also isn't necessarily expecting the good Senator to believe it if she's still in the denial stage of multiversal travel. She'll come around eventually, he figures. Hopefully.

"Custom ordered, owned, and employed by the Los Angeles Police Department of my home universe," he adds after some deliberation. No one here seems to like cops, but it isn't as though being one had ever been his choice, the way it is for human officers. "So I suppose you could say I'm from Los Angeles if it's more comfortable. I assume your world has one, too?" Since most Earth variants do, to his knowledge. But he's only ever heard of one Gotham City in New Jersey.

Squalo // open

[sharktrash]

Squalo is the one who had (unhappily) lead them toward Martin's Jail for shelter, and he may or may not be regretting it once it becomes clear they may be stuck there a while.

He'll probably proceed to be mildly psychotic and mostly stand guard by the door with the axe ready while the storm rages -- he stays inside for the most part, but he will likely venture out for a bit whenever someone else does, to keep an eye on them and their surroundings for any potential dangers the best he can in the shitty weather.

Somewhere between Night 19 and Day 20 he'll finally pass out from sheer exhaustion.

[absentconstellation]

In the hour or so after he wakes up from one of his many naps, the Cat watches Squalo as he stands guard. He's mildly concerned by the two-legger's paranoid behavior, and finds himself wondering if that axe is going to end up lodged in some innocent person's chest. If it occurs to him that his unblinking stare might unsettle the man more, it doesn't bother him. After all, he's only blinking as often as he needs to.

[sharktrash]

It might, but surprisingly enough, his aggressive tenseness doesn't seem to extend to the Cat. As the creature (as far as he knows) stares at him, he gradually finds himself staring back for longer and longer until they're just staring at each other.

Squalo's posture relaxes somewhat; he's thinking of Xanxus, who liked probably only a single type of breathing entities and that happened to be felines.

"Hey," he says, in an actually somewhat friendly tone of voice, and tilts his head a bit.

[absentconstellation]

He considers the man for a long moment before answering with a drawn-out meow. Somehow, it sounds a great deal like the word "hello".

lmk if this isn't okay lol

[obeir]

Given Squalo's increasingly erratic behaviour over the last few days, K can't exactly blame the two women and cat for probably not wanting anything to do with him once he all but drops from exhaustion. About time. No sense in leaving him on the frigid concrete; he needs to be in good enough shape to travel again whenever the storm lets up. After a bit of prodding to determine that Squalo is in fact just unconscious and not dead, K bodily lifts and carries him to one of the makeshift beds.

The axe is discreetly set... elsewhere for the time being. The last thing any of them needs is Squalo waking in a panic and accidentally injuring himself or one of them.

it's fine!

[sharktrash]

He's not particularly heavy for his size, so at least moving him shouldn't be too much trouble. He wiggles and shifts a little but doesn't wake up, muttering something that may or may not sound as Xanxus as he's being carried, but then he's quiet again.

For a little bit, anyway. As soon as he's actually sleeping comfortably, he starts snoring. Loud enough that probably nobody is going to sleep while he is, actually -- his voice was always too loud when he was awake, and it seems the same is true when he's asleep, too.

The Cat | Open

[absentconstellation]

The Cat would rather die of boredom than go out in the dreadful rain and wind outside, but fortunately that isn't necessary. Instead he keeps a fairly regular schedule of healthy exercise and recreation in order to keep himself occupied during their extended stay indoors. He's happy to share his routine with all of his human companions, who would probably be willing to do a great deal in order to get him to stop sharing:

He takes regular naps that last between 2 and 4 hours, several times a day. In the 3 or so hours between naps he entertains himself in a variety of ways: stretching his legs by running laps around the building at full speed, viciously hunting large dust motes, batting toxic berries around (since they can't be eaten, they may as well be cat toys), and investigating every inch of his new home (inanimate or otherwise) with his nose, paws and teeth. He's even lucky enough to find a foam stress ball to chew on and a dusty, moldy-smelling blanket to curl up on.

From time to time the blanket moves, either because someone touched something near it, someone moved and created a breeze, or he simply imagined that it did. At these times he reacts as quickly as instinct, pouncing on the part of the blanket that moved and grabbing it in his teeth before it has the chance to escape.

Day 18

[desperate_times_right]

At one point in the inspection portion of the Cat’s day, he finds Chloe watching him thoughtfully. She's thinking about her conversation with Maddy yesterday.

“Do you have a name, dude?”

[absentconstellation]

The Cat looks up, distracted from his investigation. He gives a short mew in answer, but it sounds remarkably like the word "no". He doesn't have a name that humans can use, anyway. He wonders if they'll give him a new name, and if it will make it more difficult for him to leave. He last died only a short couple of weeks ago, after all. It's a bit soon for him to be getting attached to a new life.

[obeir]

For K's part, he doesn't seem to especially mind the Cat's behaviour, at least outwardly — he knows a thing or two about what it's like being a cat, after all. Which is why he spends some time putting together a cat toy from scavenged materials. Poking a hole in one of the many bottlecaps he's found, he ties a length of thread to it and attaches the other end to a small stick. During the Cat's next designated exercise period, he brings out the makeshift teaser toy and wiggles it along the ground, hoping to catch the Cat's attention.

[absentconstellation]

The toy is somewhat shiny and makes a curious sound when it bounces on the ground, immediately capturing the Cat's attention and activating his hunting instinct. He freezes instantly, staying perfectly still while watching the bottlecap with overlarge pupils. Only the very tip of his tail moves, twitching madly.