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[Junk XIII] Enough Armour? (J 7-5)
Jack,
Both Ro and Topps slept in the next morning. Not together. There were a half dozen folks who crashed in the room with them, their young bodies giving out after binging on booze and drugs and dancing. The trip to Armour was amusing, with the two of them now chatting like lifelong friends, Parfait seems to be quite please at her friends' moods.
You arrive at Armour in the afternoon. Its drizzling outside, and chilly, the kind of "see your own breath" cold. Regardless, the place is active, lots of folks moving crates in from a recent shipment, loading up a truck for another shipment to head south, about ten folks bustling about. Actually, you notice that the activity is from a much smaller group of loaders and lifters than the last time you were here. Ro heads in to chat with Monte Blanc, but ends up having to pay for a couple rooms. He gets adjoining ones, of course, which leaves a question where Topps will sleep, since the rooms both have single beds.
All four of you are heading up the stairs towards your rooms, taking the interior concrete stairs, when you hear a pair of people talking. You recognize one of the voices, right as she comes round the corner from a level above you, chatting with big, strong Fridge about the weight limit on the truck. You see her before she sees you, Jack. It's Aquafina.
Of course, Parfait is right beside you, quiet and observant, she senses your tension, but doesn't know what's wrong.
What do you do?
Both Ro and Topps slept in the next morning. Not together. There were a half dozen folks who crashed in the room with them, their young bodies giving out after binging on booze and drugs and dancing. The trip to Armour was amusing, with the two of them now chatting like lifelong friends, Parfait seems to be quite please at her friends' moods.
You arrive at Armour in the afternoon. Its drizzling outside, and chilly, the kind of "see your own breath" cold. Regardless, the place is active, lots of folks moving crates in from a recent shipment, loading up a truck for another shipment to head south, about ten folks bustling about. Actually, you notice that the activity is from a much smaller group of loaders and lifters than the last time you were here. Ro heads in to chat with Monte Blanc, but ends up having to pay for a couple rooms. He gets adjoining ones, of course, which leaves a question where Topps will sleep, since the rooms both have single beds.
All four of you are heading up the stairs towards your rooms, taking the interior concrete stairs, when you hear a pair of people talking. You recognize one of the voices, right as she comes round the corner from a level above you, chatting with big, strong Fridge about the weight limit on the truck. You see her before she sees you, Jack. It's Aquafina.
Of course, Parfait is right beside you, quiet and observant, she senses your tension, but doesn't know what's wrong.
What do you do?
Comments
I grip Parfait's hand tightly, and lower my head in hopes that I can pass by her unnoticed... Good gods — of all the people I could encounter in a stairwell... I whisper to Parfait, "that woman drove the truck that brought me to you."
She stops walking, actually staggering back a couple steps, coherent speech stolen from her. She reaches for her sidearm, fumbling for the button that keeps her gun in its holster.
Parfait sees this, and hisses a warning to her. If Aquafina draws on you, you know Parfait will attack her before she brings it to bear. Fridge has this look of confusion and alarm. He doesn't have a weapon, but he's a big guy. Ro is totally flat-footed here.
This is about to go pear-shaped. What do you do?
I whisper, pleading with Parfait, "our son, my love... Think of our son!"
"He's a WENDY! He's a frakking Wendy! Fridge!" Aquafina hasn't shot you, but she's either going to pull the trigger or run.
Calling you a Wendy puts Fridge on edge, but Ro says calmly (out of the line of fire), "Hey yo, he's cool. He's no Wendy, he's got some half - brother, but that isn't his fault."
"Aqua, he don't look like a Wendy to me..." Fridge says carefully.
"He is! He's one of THEM!" She says as she squeezes her eyes and starts to pull the trigger.
OOC: Manipulating Aquafina. Roll+hot.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 2. Total: 9)
Aquafina shrieks and drops the gun, starts to run, but hesitates, looking down at you with a mix of horror and shock.
You take 2 Harm before armor. You weren't wearing any, right?
(Rolled: 2d6+2 . Rolls: 5, 2. Total: 9)
What do you do?
I suppose I should have expected this... Armour doesn't have a doctor – do they? Is To succeeding at calming everyone down? I would hate for this to be the second time I beg someone to let Aquafina go.
Fridge pulls Aquafina behind him and she says angrily, "He lied about everything, Ro. He led me into a trap, straight to the Wendys. He's a liar..."
Ro says calmly, "He already told us about that, Aqua. He bought your life off of them, didn't he?"
"Yes, but he tricked me into... he told me I would feel better about myself if I.... he used me." Aquafina stammers, the emotions draining ber, confused and hurt and scared of you all at once.
Well... Maybe I'm a little less so inclined now that I've been shot, but the sentiment is still the same. Good gods this hurts! If I'm going to be taking bullets for Parfait and my son on a regular basis, then I must get something a little more resistant to them. I strain to sit up, but my body isn't cooperating. "Ro... It's clear Aquafina wishes to take her leave of me. I can't move very well right now — if not for that, I would happily oblige her. Surely any further assaults on my character can wait until I've received medical attention of some sort, yes?"
I reach up for Parfait's hand. I know she would like nothing more than to pounce on Aquafina, and do some measure of harm to her — but we are merely visitors here, we are not permanent. I will survive this, and so will Aquafina if she'll listen to reason — but so help me — if anyone feels so inclined to threaten my dear Parfait again, I'll flood this room with pain and put this nonsense to an end.
Fridge pulls her past you both down the stairs and out. He says, "Closest medic is Trench. But Kelloggs can pull a bullet out of ya, he's on second level west."
Ro waits for the pair of then to leave, then drops down by you and Parfait. After looking at your wound, he asks, "Jack, you alright? I think the bullet blew through and through, right? I see an exit wound. I can help cauterize it, if you want."
Ro says calm and sure, "We need to get you up to the room, Jack." He reaches down to help you up. It hurts, but with their help, you get up the stairs and Topps opens the door to your room. Ro and Parfait help you in while Topps moves into the bathroom, pulling a shower curtain down. She moves in to put it on the bed while Parfait nimbly helps you take off your shirt.
They lay you down on the curtain, which is vinyl, and sticks to your back a bit. Ro says, "Jack, we can put pressure on the wound and it should close. Or I can burn it closed and know for sure. What do you want, brother?"
Ro asks, "Jack, you want something to dull the pain, brother?"
I shake my head when Ro asks if I want something for the pain. "Save it for later. The adrenaline rush will suffice for now." I chuckle, "I'm sorry to put you all through so much trouble... I suppose I should have been better prepared for such an eventuality..."
Tops hops back from you, hurrying to get some jingle, "I know where I can trade. I'll be back soon!" She heads out the door, and Ro follows her to lock it.
You notice that Ro takes a seat near the door, he has a pistol out, which he puts on the table. Time creeps along, and the stabbing pain in your gut seems to stretch and grow and throb. Parfait starts singing you the gentle lullabies she sang to you in the bunker just a few days ago.
Do you plan on staying awake through this, Jack? If so, let's see you Act Under Fire.
This pain is temporary...
This pain is temporary...
This pain is temporary...
This pain is temporary...
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 5, 4. Total: 10)
At the second changing of the gauze, Parfait announces that your wounds have closed, at least to the point where only a trickle of blood seeps out. You feel hungry and your body aches. Topps has been pacing for the whole time, and Ro keeps an eye on the door.
The night passes.
-----------------
You waken feeling stiff and sticky. It is morning and Parfait is there, right with you. You remember at some point they moved you enough to clean the tarp underneath. Parfait undressed you, moved you onto the bed and held you tight. The pain subsides most of the time now, but the ache of it is like someone has a pressure pushing against your temple.
Topps comes in, bringing some warm food, fresh from Touch o Gold's. Its fried pastry of some kind, and a mushy kind of grits with butter. It hurts to eat, but Parfait talks you through it, spoon feeding you for a few bites.
After a bit of quiet breakfast, Topps says gently, "Par, you should take a shower or something. You've got bloodstains all over. Ro and I will watch over him. Just freshen up a bit, alright?"
"No. I am well enough. I do not need it." Parfait says in clipped tones, like some mama bear. She probably does. She probably has aches, too. But it feels so much better having her close, and she knows it.
What do you do?
A shot of pain jolts through me, and I open my eyes as I catch myself trying to roll over onto my side. It is morning? I suppose it is. I feel the weight of Pafait's arm on my chest, and it grounds me to reality. I suppose it's been a long night for all of us...
I feel much better when Topps returns with some food, the pain dulled significantly by the good company I keep, and I try my best to eat in spite of the pain it causes me. I know showing signs of recovery will bring my companions some peace, and I endeavor to give that to them. I smile when Topps suggests Parfait take a shower... In truth, I'd imagine we could all use one — me in particular — but removing the blood would likely do her a world of good.
I lift my hand up to gently grip her shoulder, "a clean body, and a few moments away from caring for me would do you a world of good my dear. If I could, I would join you in an instant — but I should probably stay put while I heal." I lean in, my effort labored by the quickcrete that was once my body, and kiss her gently on the lips, "listen to our friends, my love — they're here to help us both."
You hear the water come on, spattering aganst the floor of the stall. Ro says, "Hey Jack, if you didn't have bad luck, I don't think you'd have any, brother." He shakes his head, "You need something to drink? Something for the pain?"
Before you answer him, though, there's a knock at the door. Ro picks the pistol up and heads over to check on the door, see who's there.
What do you do?
Who in the world is this?
I reach over for my jacket, and pull it over me. I need access to my projector, and my scalpels... Just in case, of course. Before Ro answers the door, I raise a hand and call to him. "Ro — easy my friend. Let's not cause a commotion if we can avoid it, yes?"
Ro lets him in, heads to the bathroom to let the girls know. Monte Blanc comes up to you, looking at the shower curtain sheet you're on, sees the blood stains on the floor. He looks at you, "What happened?" He doesn't look terribly concerned , more asking out of courtesy and to know if you're about to die.
Ro says with a confident grin, "Do you know who I am?"
Monte Blanc replies, unimpressed, "Yes, but we don't count on tourism. Or luck. We make our own here. No free rides."
OOC: Reading Mont Blanc. Roll+Weird. +1XP.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 6, 3. Total: 12)
Q1: How can I get Mont Blanc to waive the fee?
Barring that, saving him the trouble of cleaning by really scrubbing the place down would steal his thunder.
Q2: How can I make Mont Blanc feel horrible for accepting this jingle?
Ro whistles low, "Man, what an ass.... make our own luck. What a load!"
A couple minutes later, a freshly clean Parfait comes out in a towel. The water comes on again, this time for Topps. Ro shows some interest from his vantage point, but it's not like he can see anything.
Parfait dries herself off, and at one point drops the towel down to wipe at her legs, basically flashing Ro. Ro immediately looks at the wall, not grossed out, you can tell, just trying to respect you, or both of you, or something. Then she finishes and puts on some fresh clothes, slides onto the bed beside you, kissing your forehead gently. She smells nice, like lavender.
Q3: What does Monte Blanc intend to do?
I nod at Ro's comment, and slip my jacket back down onto the floor beside the bed. "Someone should remove that stick wedged so firmly up his ass, if you ask me." I relax, and wait for Parfait to get out of the shower. I am flattered by Ro's show of respect for Parfait — or me, or us, or whatever, as you put it — and I breathe in deeper than I perhaps should when Parfait's lavender scent wafts into my nostrils.
"You smell wonderful, my dear," I whisper pleasantly, "are you refreshed?"
The mention of Topps using soap on Parfait gets a curious look from Ro, but he lets it go, like it is none of his business. He stands up, "I wanna get some food. You guys good? I'll be back soon, I'll bring you some, too." Unless you object, he'll head out, probably to Touch o Gold's.
Monte Blanc's going to avoid the four of you as much as possible for the rest of your stay.
Once he leaves, I turn over to Parfait. I need to get my mind off of Monte Blanc and his thoughts. "So tell me more of this soapy exchange of yours," I grin widely, half teasing, "were there bubbles? Girlish giggling? Is she a better washer than I?"
Parfait doesn't get the implications of the "soapy exchange" right away. However, she catches on when you ask if Topps is a better washer. She narrows her eyes, "No, you are much better. I was... stubborn. She became insistent. When I stood in the shower angry, she came in and washed me. There was... it made me laugh, yes."
She leans in, as if Topps could hear over the water, "Why do you ask, my husband? Do you want her to share our bed? Do you find the young girl pretty? She thinks you are very sexy. She told me this."
The thought of sharing our bed with Topps is ... interesting. She is quite young, and I don't particularly see her that way — but I do try and keep an open mind. Is this something Parfait is interested in? Topps is interested in women as well then? "I never would have guessed," I whisper back, "and I hadn't considered the thought. She is, of course, an attractive young lady — but my attention is conquered entirely by the beauty lying beside me. Is this something you would like?"
I pause, then add, "not that I'm in any shape to share a bed with anybody in that capacity just yet." It occurs to me this week will be something like the reunion Parfait and I shared back at the tribe... Nursing me back to health. "Topps is a mere stone's throw away from the young Humphrey — surely she is anxious to reunite with her beau."
She leans in to kiss you as if you're made out of delicate paper. "I do not think Topps wishes to be with me. She is impetuous and wanted me to be clean. I am sure I could convince her to join our bed, if you like. But it would ruin her reunion with Hump, as you say."
The water stops, but Topps spends some time drying, and fixing her hair. Parfait continues speaking low into your ear. Her breath tickles lightly, "Do you lie with men? As I did with Barinet? I am curious."
I am comfortable when the shower stops, relaxed. I nod when Parfait asks if I've slept with men, "I have, on occasion, slept with a few men. It takes a special mind for me to truly desire one, but I have had the pleasure of meeting a great many people... Some of them more beautiful than others. None as beautiful as you though." I smile, figuring she must have asked that question for a reason, "why do you ask?"
Topps comes out in a towel, her dark hair still damp. She smiles at you two, "Feeling any better, Jack?"
I can hear Topps' mind racing with a silent admiration before I even know she's standing there. I turn to her, and nod. "Much, thank you. The medicine you brought last night seems to be doing its job." I move my legs and invite her to sit with us, "how are you holding up?"
Parfait says, "We are not offended. We want you to see him, too."
Topps nods, relieved. After she finishes drying, she fetches her clothes and disappears into the bathroom to dress. She comes back out, and hands Parfait a wet washcloth, "Why don't I give you guys some time alone?" She heads for the door to leave.
Parfait takes the washcloth and starts gently wiping you clean. It doesn't feel terribly comfortable, of course, with your body still sensitive. She tries her best to wash you without hurting, her eyes completely focused on reading your expression, trying to adjust each touch to avoid your pain.