simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
Cain
She caught the glass of water, and, in her current state of bemusement, drank wordlessly. It certainly helped, but honestly not that much. Jeremy’s worried face, however, was all she needed to try and regain her composure. “Hah.” She smirked at her friend, catching her breath. “Look at you. Acting the gentleman, huh, Jerry?” She gave a low, weak laugh, then offered him a smile. “Thanks, Jeremy. I’m really glad we’re…” she paused, a curious expression coming over her face, then continued, “together on this. Thanks...for...” Her gratitude trailed off as she returned her attention to the bottom of the glass of water, as if it was going to give her some answers, then proceeded to down the rest of it, before placing it back on the table, finally turning her attention to the mayor.
He was old. Older than she expected. Every movement he made, it seemed to reflect his age. Pain seemed to assault him as he tried to recline, and she was uncharacteristically worried that he wouldn't be able to straighten himself out of his chair if he went too far. His eyes seemed to search for their faces, even though they were barely even a few arms’ length away from him. She wondered if he knew…
“I’m…I’m fine.” She hoped he didn't expect her to answer him truthfully about how she was feeling, which was, honestly, pretty terrible. She was still confused, her head was still a muddle of her own memories, and the ‘memories’ of another’s. If it was indeed just one other person’s she was sharing. She supposed it was memories. The more she tried to grasp at the fleeting pieces, the more they drifted out of her reach, but she could always just see them, out of the corner of her mind’s eye, and the emotions that lingered on these pieces were always something…realistic. But she didn't need to tell him that. She didn't even tell Jeremy.
Her ears perked up when he mentioned ‘the machines’. It was time she pounced. She had been waiting for just this moment. “So you know what they are?” She straightened up in her seat. Now that she had a place to rest her sluggish body, she could somewhat muster up the energy to regain her usual confident posture. “No more secrets, mayor. I’m not like some genius like some weed I can name, but I don't think I have to corner you on the facts.” She pushed the glass, now emptied of its contents, to one side with one finger, then leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her thighs. Her voice was quiet, but now, it was no longer because she was too weak- it was because she was being deliberately calm and assertive. She had to be. Loud shouting didn't work on old people like these. Show them you are calm, show them you are able to stand toe-to-toe with them on a mental level. “Tell us. What are the machines? What are these monsters? The one that we boarded, it had...someone’s belongings in it- someone from long ago, but I don’t recognise the name or the family.” Cain locked her eyes with the old man’s own, hers, clear ones of the fire of youth, against his, clouded with age. He should know. He was old. People like him tended to remember things from long ago. “The name was Claire Mallory. Who was she? Did this happen before?” It was time to push the envelope a little bit more, she figured, and inched forwards on her seat. “Tell us, mayor. You couldn't have just brought us down here just to have a little chat with us and tell us we were good kids and we didn't do anything wrong.”
_Line 213 The One Eyed Bandit
She caught the glass of water, and, in her current state of bemusement, drank wordlessly. It certainly helped, but honestly not that much. Jeremy’s worried face, however, was all she needed to try and regain her composure. “Hah.” She smirked at her friend, catching her breath. “Look at you. Acting the gentleman, huh, Jerry?” She gave a low, weak laugh, then offered him a smile. “Thanks, Jeremy. I’m really glad we’re…” she paused, a curious expression coming over her face, then continued, “together on this. Thanks...for...” Her gratitude trailed off as she returned her attention to the bottom of the glass of water, as if it was going to give her some answers, then proceeded to down the rest of it, before placing it back on the table, finally turning her attention to the mayor.
He was old. Older than she expected. Every movement he made, it seemed to reflect his age. Pain seemed to assault him as he tried to recline, and she was uncharacteristically worried that he wouldn't be able to straighten himself out of his chair if he went too far. His eyes seemed to search for their faces, even though they were barely even a few arms’ length away from him. She wondered if he knew…
“I’m…I’m fine.” She hoped he didn't expect her to answer him truthfully about how she was feeling, which was, honestly, pretty terrible. She was still confused, her head was still a muddle of her own memories, and the ‘memories’ of another’s. If it was indeed just one other person’s she was sharing. She supposed it was memories. The more she tried to grasp at the fleeting pieces, the more they drifted out of her reach, but she could always just see them, out of the corner of her mind’s eye, and the emotions that lingered on these pieces were always something…realistic. But she didn't need to tell him that. She didn't even tell Jeremy.
Her ears perked up when he mentioned ‘the machines’. It was time she pounced. She had been waiting for just this moment. “So you know what they are?” She straightened up in her seat. Now that she had a place to rest her sluggish body, she could somewhat muster up the energy to regain her usual confident posture. “No more secrets, mayor. I’m not like some genius like some weed I can name, but I don't think I have to corner you on the facts.” She pushed the glass, now emptied of its contents, to one side with one finger, then leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her thighs. Her voice was quiet, but now, it was no longer because she was too weak- it was because she was being deliberately calm and assertive. She had to be. Loud shouting didn't work on old people like these. Show them you are calm, show them you are able to stand toe-to-toe with them on a mental level. “Tell us. What are the machines? What are these monsters? The one that we boarded, it had...someone’s belongings in it- someone from long ago, but I don’t recognise the name or the family.” Cain locked her eyes with the old man’s own, hers, clear ones of the fire of youth, against his, clouded with age. He should know. He was old. People like him tended to remember things from long ago. “The name was Claire Mallory. Who was she? Did this happen before?” It was time to push the envelope a little bit more, she figured, and inched forwards on her seat. “Tell us, mayor. You couldn't have just brought us down here just to have a little chat with us and tell us we were good kids and we didn't do anything wrong.”
_Line 213 The One Eyed Bandit