[Junk XIII] On the Road Again (J 7-2)

edited December 2013 in Junkworld XIII
Jack,

You gave notice to Logitech, and he said he'd hold the room at Grande Seville's for you for a month before looking elsewhere for an investigator or something like it. You headed east to avoid The Wendys, routing up through Cat and on to Salt before the straight shot through Trench and Armour, then due east to the Ascendant.

Let's see how travel has been for the two of you. Roll +Hot. On a 7-9 choose two of the below to be true. On a 10+, choose three. On a miss, the MC chooses what's true and what's not, and we'll open with you in a bad spot.

* You didn't have any trouble traveling through Cat, just stopped in, grabbed a bed, and rode on
* You spotted a few folks on Black Mesa, could be a new raider gang
* Parfait's slowly showing signs of life, having bouts of activity and being more social
* You ran into a traveling caravan and sold off some jewelry, making 1 jingle of tin

Comments

  • OOC: Travelling. Roll+Hot.
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 2. Total: 6)
  • Ro insisted I leave Boomtown in the early hours of the morning, gaining a few hours of travel time before the roads pick up with the usual traffic. As it so happens, it was excellent advice — apparently we just narrowly avoided the arrival of some people from Bubble City in Cat.

    I think the fresh air, and forced closeness with me has helped Parfait a little bit. She's begun talking again, and seems less distant than she did in Boomtown.

    OOC: Burning a bond with Ro to take +1 on that last roll.
    • You didn't have any trouble traveling through Cat.
    • Parfait's slowly showing signs of life again.
  • edited December 2013
    Let's pick up at Salt.

    Parfait's riding behind you, one arm looped around your waist, the other holding on her little headphones. She's listening to Junk Radio Tower One, some gothy tunes from the saddest DJ in the world, the love-lost Topps. Ro's riding beside you in a loud chopper that he swears he just "found" on the outskirts of Boomtown.

    You're pulling up to Ollie's as we open up. It's late afternoon. Would be wise to grab some sleep here. In one of the mobile homes, or out in a tent. And you're running on empty, so gas is a must.

    When you park outside Ollie's, Ro throws his leg over to dismount, pulling off his helmet, yes, he wears a helmet, and says, "Let's get some drinks.... well, water for you two, a real drink for me. First round's on me." He heads on in, looking like he needs to pee.

    Parfait says quietly, "Jack... it is hard to believe I am walking into Ollie's. I dreamed about this. When you were gone, when I was alone and watching this place." She swallows, fidgets, and hasn't gotten off the bike. She looks at you with those beautiful eyes, full of worry, "Do you think they will... they will know what I am?"
  • I nod to Ro as he walks off for Ollie's, agreeing to meet him there. I can't go there immediately, as I need to get some gasoline first — it does us no good to have an empty tank, and you never know if we'll need to run for some reason... Not that I expect we'll need to run — it's just experience telling me to be ready.

    I offer Parfait my hand, to help her off the bike, and smile warmly, "they could not possibly know the beautiful woman you are, my dear — they have never met you — but I know what you mean. Salt was the first place I stopped when I left, all those years ago — there may have been a few odd looks from the children who I'd watched from afar, but they will not be able to deny that you are welcome here."

    I kiss her on the cheek, "I will not stand for people who judge you on preconceptions; now come, let us make that dream of yours a reality!"
  • She grabs your shirt when you start to pull back from the kiss on her cheek, keeping you close. Looking into your eyes, which has unfortunately become a rarity of late, she whispers, "What was it like, Jack? Your first time here. Tell me. I need to know."
  • I smile, "Terrifying, and exciting. I was afraid to say a single word to anyone at first — for fear that I might cast myself an outsider. I spent the first day simply watching people, walking about the village in hopes of finding a way to introduce myself. Eventually, the problem solved itself — a young girl approached me, and started asking me where I was from, and what I was doing here. She was travelling south, with her father, and must have sensed that I was out of place as well." I laugh, "she couldn't have been more right, I suppose."

    I brush a strand of hair out of those beautiful eyes she has, and soften my voice. "It was that brief connection with young Topps, a window into this world, that gave me hope. She brought me to her home, to eat as her father conversed with a man on the construction of these radios. I cannot remember the details in full, but somehow I convinced Topp's father that I was certain his associate was, in fact, very capable of building these devices he described. He was so impressed, that he asked me to travel with him a short time while he negotiated for the resources... During our travels, I was so smitten with the road that I could not bring myself to settle down."

    I smile, "and the rest, as they say, is history. I went from town to town observing culture, and helping however I could... Occasionally I've met people like Gala, who were rude and intolerant of my lack of knowledge about life in the flats; but it has rarely come to blood, and I am here to tell the tale." I smile, "I am here for you, my dear, and we will walk into Ollie's together. This worry you have: nothing will come of it. I promise."
  • She nods, your words giving her some courage, and dismounts off the bike. The pair of you walk in, arm-in-arm. The interior of Ollie's is laid out like normal, big wide open space for tables and a long bar. The place feels too big, really, like the cantina was built for some place like Boomtown, not a speck like Salt. Still, the mines have some people who work it, and the radio has some folks stopping through. It's a decent enough watering hole, now that the refinery is pumping out real gas, it should stick around for a while.

    Ro's at the bar, chatting with Bicycle and a reasonably pretty girl who is dressed a little slutty, in a low-cut dress. When did you see Timex last?

    Do you take a table or a seat beside Ro?
  • edited December 2013
    Oh Timex... This is rather embarrassing. The last time I saw her was when she attempted to ... Ahem "sleep" with me in the men's washroom of Loot's back in Boomtown. It was a local celebration they call Reunion, and I developed a migrane from the cacophony of emotion being spewed out all over town. I retreated to the washroom to escape the din, and was followed by the poor girl. She was desperate, inside and out, to be recognized for her rather "large breasts" — which were in fact small, and stuffed with cloth for effect. It was a vapid ploy she hoped would land her a husband in spite of her otherwise manic romantic tendencies, and singularly one-tracked and lazy mind.

    So no, I did not sleep with her. Instead I hooked her up with a man I know who could not stop staring at her chest. They were a good match, so long as they didn't speak to each other. Don't get me wrong: I am not above the baser desires of an attractive body — simply look at Parfait, for example — but when you spend your days listening to a person's mind it becomes as important, if not more, that my partner be able to maintain thoughts that interest me — and without prompting, might I add.

    I'm going to take a table with Parfait, to let her take in the atmosphere for a moment. I figure we can take baby steps for the moment — but the hitch is that I won't order anything for her. I've been holding on to the jingle we made back in Bubble City — I figure she can buy herself a drink, with the jingle she's earned. It's something of a rite of passage, you see.
  • As you recall, all the construction is recent, a reddish brick, like adobe, but with some odd swirls of color. The place is far too big for Salt, which is a speck, whereas this is a watering hole for a hundred people maybe.

    Inside are a handful of adults, sitting at the long slate bar, a few clumps of people sitting at small tables. There's even a small stage where a band could play. No music right now, but it could be used any minute, it feels like. It had to have taken years to craft this place, all built by hand.

    Parfait sits at the table, farthest from people, her shoulders hunched in, nervous about this. Which seems odd, since she's been in Boomtown and Bubble City, both bigger places. But then, she's changed, or she sees the world through a different filter right now.

    A kid waitress comes by, Parfait uses her own jingle to pay for your food, which is a simple stew and some water. Ro finishes chatting with Timex, looks around to see you two, and waves. He just hangs out at the bar talking with Bicycle and probably getting free drinks.

    The food arrives, Parfaits stares at it, looks up at you, then back at the bowl. "Is it... okay for me to eat, Jack?"
  • This place stands out like a sore thumb... It is as thought the building was made for somewhere else, and went up entirely too quickly given its age. The namesake — Ollie's — I wonder if it is in reference to Kiddo's father, and yet Kiddo and her father are very spartan by nature. Something this big — almost unnecessarily so — is out of character for her, and I would imagine for him as well.

    So that begs the question: who made this? And why name it after Oliver?

    I suppose it doesn't mean much of anything to know the answer, but a lot of care went into this building — a passion, you might say — and I am nothing if not an aficionado for people's passions.

    I smile warmly, amused at Parfait's apprehension of the bowl. "Of course, my dear! People rarely serve food you can't eat in the flats." I pick up my spoon and demonstrate how to eat it, "It's very flavorful, and keeps you warm during the colder months. Try it while it's warm." I slide my chair a little closer to her, and wrap my arm around her waist as I eat. I'll feed her, if I must.
  • The threat of feeding her motivates her a bit. It isn't that the other people would embarrass her, far from it. She doesn't like being seen as weak, and evidently, that seems to count.

    The meal passes quietly for a few minutes. Then the door to the outside opens up, and in walks an older version of that very little girl you saw once, Jack. It's Topps, you'd know those eyes anywhere. She's in her mid to late teens now, and her eyes are more sad than curious, but it is her. You know it.
  • My intent was to have Parfait eat — and while the motivation is suspect, that she is motivated at all is hopeful. Being fed is not a weakness out here in the flats... It could be perceived that way, I'm sure, but most often it is viewed as luxury. I'll have to work on that.

    I eat with her a while, until Topps comes in the bar, and my jaw drops... How serendipitous that I might see her here now! I stand and jog over to her, a smile lifting the corner of my mouth. "Topps!" I call, "my dear, how you've grown!"
  • Topps blinks a couple times, first to look to see who called to her, then at you, trying to recognize you. She comes over, curiosity taking over, and says, "Hey, I remember you. It was... oh. Uhm, Dak?" She glances down at Parfait, who sort of stares up at her blankly.
  • Hrm... Well, it would seem I was unremarkable to the young lady. I smile back, regardless, and motion for her to join us at the table. "Jack, actually — this is my wife, Parfait. Parfait, my dear, this is the young lady I told you about earlier — Topps. The one who found me when I set out on my own."
  • Topps offers Parfait a hand, and after a beat, she takes it. Topps says, "Jack, right, Jack. I was tiny when I met you!" She takes a seat on your left, "Metro was visiting and dad was talking his ear off. I was so bored!" She looks over at Parfait, to see if she's paying attention, which she is.

    "Here's Jack, this stranger. In Salt, where nobody just shows up. He was really weird, Parfait, like he wasn't sure what to say, and he didn't even want to take my hand when I asked him to come back for supper." She snickers, "It was like he thought I was on fire!"

    Suddenly, Topps leans over to give you a kind of half-hug, "I'm sorry I messed up your name, Jack. I remember you. I'm just bad with names. I mean, it was half my life ago!"
  • I smile down on her, and squeeze her shoulder amiably. "It's alright, my dear — it has been a while, and you made quite the impression on me." I turn back to Parfait and wrap my arm around her shoulder in a quick embrace, placing a kiss on her temple, before turning back to Topps. "Was that you on the radio earlier? Your taste in music is surprisingly refined, my dear — I dare say most of the music I heard you playing was inspired heavily by the things I enjoy. Has life been treating you well?"
  • Parfait gives you a little sound of pleasure when you kiss her temple, but it feels somehow forced.

    Topps orders some food when the kid comes around. "Yeah, Dad and me, we run Tower One. Glad you like my tunes, Jack. Not everyone does." She shifts a bit in her seat. Her bowl of stew arrives, and she pauses before eating, "Life's okay. I met a boy. He's really great. But now he's forever away. Not even my music can reach him."
  • There's that nagging voice again...

    "Forever away? That sounds... Well, I'm not sure... Did something happen to him? Who is it, if you don't mind my asking?"
  • She takes a bite, washes it down with some Crest's beer, "Kiddo's brother. Humphrey." She looks around, "The son of the guy this place is named for. Know him?"

    There's a guy starting to play some live music, nothing loud, just light guitar strumming.
  • "Oliver," I answer, speaking loudly enough to be heard by her, "yes, I know Humphrey a little bit... Not very well, of course — just introductions between a contractor and his employer. I'm familiar with Kiddo, though. They seem like decent people — he wasn't harmed was he?"
  • Topps looks up suddenly, "What?" she nearly spews her stew, then swallows it down, takes another drink to wash it down. "No, nothing like that. Gods, I would die!" She laughs at that odd turn of phrase, and just talking about him seems to make Topps light up.

    "Humphrey went up north with his Ma and Kiddo," she explains. "His dad's there, he's pretty sick. They're at The Ascendant."
  • A nervous laugh pushes past my teeth, and I raise my eyebrows in relief. "Well that's good then! We're travelling to the Ascendant, my dear, and I'm sure our friend we're travelling with would be willing to give you a lift if you so desired to visit him."
  • For a moment, when you first suggest she ride north with you, its like she's a little marionette and some invisible hand pulled her strings to make her taller, fuller, more alive. She brightens, in that flash of hope.

    Then reality comes storming back. "Nah, I can't, Jack. I mean, I'd love to go, love to see Humphrey again... but Dad needs me. She's playing with her stew, just trailing the spoon in it now, staring at the stew, "Kiddo's Gramma was killed up there not long ago. Dad is afraid to let me go." She looks up at you, "I think he's a little mad that Jemma went up there and never came back, too."

    "You are grown, Topps." Parfait says suddenly, with some notable frustration in her tone. "You cannot live your life for your father. You must live your life. If you love Humphrey, you should go."

    Topps blinks, since this is the first thing Parfait has ever said to her. She looks over at you for a moment, stymied.

    What do you do?
  • I must admit, that the whole ordeal seems unreal to me... If the man loved Kiddo's Grandma, wouldn't he want to see her grave? Or pay his respects? Furthermore, wouldn't Humphrey like to see the woman he cares for? I'm ready to retort her argument when Parfait effectively does it for me — we truly are meant for each other, even if she did say that a bit harshly...

    I smile over at Topps, "The lady knows a thing or two about leading her own life, my dear... I can speak to your father, if you so desire."
  • Topps looks back down at her stew, "No, Jack. I think maybe, you know, I should stay away from Humphrey. He'll never move on if I just show up every other month or so." She shifts a bit.

    Still irritated with Topps' reluctance, Parfait snaps, "You are not a child. You can live on your own. Go to this man you love."

    Topps looks back up, at her, at you. But you feel it, she's not going to go. "No, you don't understand! I love him, a whole lot. But I also love this place. And I love being a DJ. And my Dad. I really love my Dad. He needs me. I can't, okay?" Her eyes become glassy, but she doesn't cry, just barely doesn't.

    Parfait closes her eyes, giving up the fight, sinking back in her seat.
  • Good gods, was I ever so stubborn?

    I search her glassy eyes for a moment, listening for that voice in her head. I wonder if she really does love Humphrey... Or perhaps if she's just confused.

    OOC: Reading Topps. Roll+Weird. +1XP
    (Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 6, 5. Total: 14)
  • OOC:
    Q1: What is Topps really feeling?
  • Topps is so torn, Jack. She really does love Hump. But she's not going to leave her father, who is miserable now that Jemma is gone. She wasn't lying, being a DJ is something she's meant to do, she adores it.

    It hurts her to know she's done the list of pros and cons and Hump comes up short. She won't leave her family and her life for him. If he was older and she was ready for a family, it might be different. But he's barely a teenager, and she's a little older, but still quite young.

    She hopes he finds someone else and is happy with them.
  • I lean into the table, and slick a stray strand of hair back... Again. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, like I'm considering how to proceed with that piece of information... Love is, at its core, a selfless sacrifice. It is a sacrifice which hurts at the time, but seems obvious in hindsight. I put my hand on Topps', and smile.

    "A wise man once told me a love you throw your whole self into is not something you stumble across twice... But I beg to differ, my dear. If you turn away from young Humphrey now, you'll be stumbling on that love for the rest of your life." I look over to Parfait, "it is foolish to ignore it twice."

    I pause a moment, for effect, and look her in the eyes again. "It is possible that in time you'll find yourself established, and young Humphrey will simply become Humphrey. If you are fortunate, you will cross paths again — if you are very fortunate, you will be free from the shackles of a false fate when you do. If I could convince Humphrey to come back to you, would you take him?"
  • Topps and Parfait both are drawn in when you talk about love, and loves lost. Topps leans forward, while Parfait rests her chin on her hands. These words are an affirmation of Parfait's choices and a jab at Topps'. Its interesting, seeing their reactions, isn't it?

    "Yes, I would take him. Absolutely." Topps answers quickly, without hesitation.

    Oh, by the way, Ro is heading out with Timex. Mattel, the singer, he's picking up the tunes and starting to play something you dig. What is it?
  • Is Mattel using the bow of a violin to play this song? Wait... I've heard this before! He's playing songs from that band that speaks nonsense... Oh... What was their name? Sigur Ros? It is an impressive piece.

    I almost hadn't considered that Parfait may think I'm speaking of her... Have I mentioned my theory that young men are crippled by their inability to recognize, affirm, and accommodate their own feelings, let alone the feelings of others? I suppose I may as well have been speaking of her — but I would not be so naive to exclude myself from that camp either.

    Furthermore, I am not jabbing at Topps, so much as warning her of the path ahead. Perhaps I am doing it more eloquently than Parfait did, but the message is largely unchanged. "Then how can I convince you to come see him, my dear? Don't deny what you have... Embrace it."

    OOC:
    Q2, How can I get Topps to come to the Ascendant, even if only for a short visit?
  • Topps blinks a few times, considering. "Well, if we could convince Dad that it's just a couple days there, he... he might go for it. Plus, Metro is there, I think. Or at least, he was, so that could help." Here eyebrows raise, like she just thought of something. "Or, if we could find a replacement DJ, Dad could come with! He could see Jemma's grave or whatever Candy thing they did, say his goodbyes. That might be really good.... I think."
  • A replacement DJ? That's a rare job title... I wonder if Ro would be willing to do such a thing. Or at the very least know somebody who does. "Give me the night to speak to some people, my dear. Perhaps we can find someone to replace him... Your father deserves the chance to mourn the loss of Jemma."

    I lean back in my chair, relaxing a bit. I nod, "At the very worst, Parfait and I could attempt it."
  • Parfait cocks her head to the side, "I could not do that. I barely know the music, I just listen..."

    Topps says, "Parfait, Jack knows his stuff. Mattel can help, sometimes. I have him play live from time to time. Most of the music we have are goth and old country... I know, weird combo. Call it covering a wide arc."

    Parfait reminds you, "I thought you needed to go to the Ascendant, Jack. There must be another way."

    What do you do?
  • I smile back at Parfait, and nod, "Their visit would be short. At most, we get delayed — a week? Maybe two?" I reach up and hold her cheek, brushing my thumb along it softly. "I have enough jingle that if we find someone, we'll hire them — but if we cannot find someone, then this will merely be a detour on our journey."

    I look to Topps, "Is there anyone else you would trust to do the job?"
  • Parfait nods agreement. Really, she's here with you, the rest are just details to be worked out.

    In answer to your question, Topps shrugs, "I dunno... if Mattel could actually talk without freaking out, he'd be great. But he just plays music, that's all. Uhm, Bicycle is stuck here, but he's a great talker, we talk music all the time. And then there's Dior, she's my age, but super smart. It's just that her moms won't let her out much. So, like, not really?"

    She takes another sip of the beer, "I kinda went through this already with dad, struck out then, too."
  • That may well have been because she didn't have a properly laid our plan... Or at the very least because she didn't know what to say to her father. "Dior... Chanel and Esso's daughter? Where do they stay?"
  • Topps nods, "Yeah, that's her. They live by Jemma's, the blue shack."
  • I smile and nod, "Well, I suppose we should pay them a visit then." I look to see if Parfait has finished her meal. If it seems like she's eaten, then we can head out.
  • Topps blinks, "So... you're going to do this, try to take me and Dad with you? That's so flash!" She bounces in her chair, a little happy dance. Parfait watches her quietly, and yes, she's done eating.

    "Do you like, know them?" Topps asks suddenly, "I could intro you and stuff."
  • edited December 2013
    Very few people don't know Esso — maybe better known by her old Candy name, Pal-O-Mine — but I've never met her. Contrarily, very few people know Chanel — her beautiful younger "wife", and biological mother to Dior — but I've met her. I am not surprised Dior leads a rather secluded life, given Chanel's personality.

    "Perhaps it would be best you come along, my dear," I rise from the table, offering Parfait my hand, "it's been a while since I've seen Dior and her mother..."
  • edited December 2013
    Jack, how does Dior and her mother know you? And what's the deal with Chanel's personality?
  • I watched Chanel from afar when I was much younger — she had a small sanctuary close enough to my hiding spot that I could watch her without difficulty. Often times she spoke to herself about her desires, and her love for Esso, and her desire for a child... I remember the day she found out she was pregnant actually — though not for the reason you might think...

    She stayed out way too late that night watching the sunset, and was captured by a pair of Wendys — they hogtied her, and blindfolded her, and told her how tender her meat would be for cooking. I managed to sneak up on them while they were busy scouting a caravan passing on the road, and cut Chanel free — I oriented her back to Salt, and told her to run, then ran off into the bush.

    I had the pleasure of meeting Chanel again later in life. She was not the open, carefree woman who wandered in the fields outside of Salt. She was secluded, and highly protective of her daughter. The poor girl, jaded by her experience. I was much older — I'm not sure she really recognized me — but I made a point of shaking young Dior's hand when I visited Salt for the second time. They know me as everyone else knows me — Jack the Wanderer.
  • The three of you head over to the little blue shack, knock on the door. Esso answers, looks at you, and Topps, glances at Parfait, then lets you all in, "C'mon in. Good to see you, Jack the Wanderer. Heya, Topps. Who's the hottie?" She says it with that snarling smile she has, what with the huge scar that put an unnatural part in her hair, and runs all the way down to her chin, right through the corner of her left eye and cheek. Who gave that to her?

    Inside is a small main room, complete with a few chairs, lots of rugs, Chanel, who is tending a pot of stew over the cast iron stove in the room. A girl with blue hair cascading down her back is lying in the floor, doodling. She's maybe seventeen or so. Pretty, looks like her mother, but with bigger, more hopeful eyes. Eyes you remember from before Chanel's incident.

    Chanel says softly, "Hello, Jack, Topps." Dior sits up now, like this woke her from her doodling haze.

    What do you do?
  • Jemma, if the stories are to be believed, gave Esso that scar when she wanted to leave the Candies to birth her daughter. I'm told they played a game of "chicken" to decide who was more committed to their convictions — and Jemma won. Considering they lived beside each other for years after the fact, I would imagine she is not a sore loser.

    I bow respectfully when Esso greets us. I smile and wave at Chanel and Dior as we enter. "Good evening, ladies... This is my wife, Parfait. I'm sorry to call on you so unexpected, but I was hoping we might be able to talk."
  • Chanel nods to Parfait. Esso says hey, does introductions. Chanel, true to her suspicious nature, says, "Dee, honey, why don't you take Topps back to your room?"

    Topps says, "Hey, she should hear this. Its about her. And it's a really good thing."

    Esso says, "What's up, Jack?"
  • I address Esso, although my eyes wander over to Chanel from time to time, "Well, as you've likely heard, Jemma was killed up north at the Ascendant — and as you've also likely noticed, Topps' father was particularly close to her. I am travelling north to the Ascendant with Parfait, and offered to take them both with me so they can pay their respects — but as there is no official replacement for Topps and KellyTires as DJ on the radio, they cannot leave."

    I open my stance up — a gesture to invite their questions, should they have any. "Topps tells me that Dior would make a fantastic DJ, and so I'm here to see if she would be interested in trying it."
  • Chanel opens her mouth to say no, and Esso raises a hand, "Dior. Is this something you wanna do?"

    Dior hops up, all spry-like, "Hell to the yes! I would be a badass DJ!" She looks elated, and Topps rushes over to take her hands and they giggle for a moment together.

    Chanel's eyes pop open wide and she says, "BUT..."

    Esso raises her hand again, "How long would you be gone, Jack?"
  • I shrug, "I'm not entirely sure... With these two, a week or two at the most after travel, I would imagine. I could make a trip back to drop them off if I need to stay longer. If there is something I can do to compensate Dior for her time, or make it easier on either of you, I would love to hear it."
  • Esso lowers her hand, and Chanel says, "I don't think she should even GO..." she looks to her mate, then her daughter, stumbles for words, "But, if she gets paid... one jingle for two weeks work."

    Dior looks at her, pissed, because that's too much in her eyes. It's obvious that Chanel is trying to price you out of it. And Esso, well, she's trapped, can't do anythign for ya.

    What do you do?
  • I nod, "Done." A small price to pay. I reach into my jacket and produce a few objects worth that amount — some fresh razor blades, and other toiletries one would normally only treat one's self with. I turn to Dior, "DJ's, it would seem, are in high demand my dear."
  • There is much squealing for joy. Chanel shakes her head, not at all pleased, but you trumped her. Esso grins that snarly grin, and claps you on the back. Parfait smiles, too, drawn in by the excitement of the girls.

    Esso offers you guys a chance to sit down, catch up and socialize. But you know at some point, you'll need to chat with KellyTires, too.

    What do you do?
  • I'll stay a while and enjoy their hospitality. Not too long of course, as I suspect Chanel will not be in a very social mood, but long enough to try and put her at ease. If this goes well, then perhaps Chanel would let Dior could continue on as a DJ.

    When the time seems appropriate, we'll take our leave and tackle KellyTires... I can only hope this will go well.
  • The meeting with KellyTires goes pretty well. You and Topps play the sympathy card, and he mentions hiring Cheetos to take him up, since he has a sidecar. That puts Topps with Ro.

    Anything you want to do before you take off in the morning?
  • No, nothing in particular. Perhaps take Parfait on a walk around Salt — this time as a welcome visitor, rather than an outsider.

    Other than that, the road calls.
  • Parfait enjoys the walk, her mood is a bit lighter tonight. As night falls, and the night gets quite nippy, she snuggles under your arm, "Jack, I am so proud of how you help people. You are my good husband. I am very lucky to have you as my teacher in the flats."

    She stops, and touches your side to have you stop with her. "Tell me, my husband, what can I do for you that you would like? Please... be, what is the word? Selfish. Be selfish. I feel good right now, I want to make you happy for all the good you do."

    What do you do?
  • I blush, slightly embarrassed by Parfait's compliment... Not many people have ever called me that, or expressed pride in me. I'm not sure what to make of it, frankly — but it makes me feel warm and loved, even on this cool night. I kiss her temple, and rub her shoulder to warm her — a sign of appreciation, I suppose.

    Be selfish... What an odd request. "I'm selfish all the time," I whisper with a smile, "you're giving me a child, and I've realized just how much a treasure you are to me... You are all I want in life. You, and your happiness, and the family we will build together — and your health, and safety. Your love is the finest spirit I have ever tasted. I am drunk on it, and I could drink it every day and never be sated. By coming with me to the Ascendant, and seeking help, you are doing precisely what I need to be happy."

    I look up at the moons glowing in the twilight, and add, "think fondly of me in my presence — in your own time — and I will know it. You will make me all the happier."
  • "I can do that," she says with a soft smile. She leans against you as you look up at the moon together.

    After a few quiet moments, she says quietly, "I thought you would ask me for the penis swallowing. I was ready."
  • A pleased laugh escapes my lips, perhaps louder than I intended it to be, and I smile down at her. "Well, my dear," I kiss her cheek, "I suppose if you particularly desire to try it again, I could be so selfish as to accept..." I pause a moment, "if you would like my earbuds, to protect yourself from another episode, I would not hold it against you — in fact, it might put me at ease if you accepted them."
  • edited December 2013
    "No, Jack." Parfait says as she looks up at you with a serious look. "Our son survived, you won't hurt him. I am not afraid of a little pain. The things we share when you mate with me, they are incredible. I am with you, as you are. Do not ever ask me to wear them again." She puts her hand up to your cheek, and kisses you fiercely for a moment, sort of "sealing the deal".
  • I let her kiss me, and her love washes over me — her acceptance. I will never be at peace with the risk of bringing her harm — but I can be at peace with her wishes. When she pulls back I answer with an eager smile, and a nod.
  • --END SCENE--
Sign In or Register to comment.