crux_fleet | (no subject)

Who: Rosette and YOU
Where: One of the main thoroughfares into the market
When: Several hours after the attack has been repelled/Day 1
What: THE ROSETTE IS DRIVING HOW CAN THIS BE?
Warnings: Nuns with guns

Rosette has through dubious means acquired both a vehicle and a license. It would make sense in the celebratory mood and the heavy congestion of militia and soldiers returning from their victory and civilians leaving their shelter that traffic would get a bit touchy.

More than a bit touchy.

In fact, it only took one person getting tired of how slowly their nice, computer operated car was going to crash into three other vehicles in an unusual fit of road rage.

Maybe you're in the next car over with friends, maybe you're just leaving the market, maybe you're standing by or floating over traffic with your magical floaty powers. And then there's Rosette. How does Rosette react to the traffic jam? STOMP HER WAY UP ON TOP OF SOMEONE ELSE'S CAR TO YELL AT OTHER PEOPLE NEW YORK STYLE.

"JUST MOVE! THERE'S SPACE RIGHT THERE! ARRG ARE YOU BLIND!" She stomps on the roof of the car she's standing on. Probably your roof.

((OOC NOTE: This is after infection but before anyone knows what is going on! Enjoy your new temperament in a traffic jam.

Prose and fast tagging both welcome and responded in kind!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He can hear doom coming, in the form of that wail and metal crashing, and was ready to help Rosette down from the car, when she leaps and grabs his hand, and —

He never told her, like he had Kevin, how one should properly lead a blind man: placing his hand one one's elbow, so that he can, with balance and control, be guided rather than yanked along. Well, there's no point, now. His condition is temporary, after all...

Still, it's a sweet gesture, almost tender in its thoughtlessness. Why do people treat him with such kindness? Why him, the worst of all men? It's enough to make him tear up; he ducks his head as they run, so she won't see. Presently the noise falls off, and he can sense the presence of an alleyway: somewhere with less light and a breath of air, a little crosswind. Somewhere, hopefully, sufficiently out of sight for a moment while he catches his breath. It's harder than before, nowadays. ]

Dear me... tempers seem to be [ pant ] running terribly high! You're okay, hm?

[Tucked safely in that alley, hidden from easy view by a broken down sweeper machine and some discarded shipping bins, she doesn't let go of his hand, but certainly loosens her grip.]

Eh? Me? Of course!

[Outside, the sounds of a really heavy fistfight are clear over her heavy breathing.]

... Really high, I mean, I just dinged the guy. [Instead of the usual defensive bluster, the tone actually has concern in it.] ... You okay?

[ She is still holding his hand. It's unbearable; but he can't bear to let go of it either. He has got to regain control of himself, somehow, or he really is going to break down and — ]

[ ... ]

You caused the accident?

[ Of course. Of course she did. This is Rosette Christopher, whose driving skills, he knows from first hand experience, are cataclysmic on a good day.

It's... it's funny. He can't help starting to chuckle. ]

[ The chuckles give way to giggles which turn into howling peals of laughter. It's so bad, he finally stumbles back against the wall and slides down it, arms wrapped around himself and doubled over. This is punctuated with agonal gasps for air, as if he really were going to die laughing. ]

Well it... It wasn't EXACTLY my f-

Edited 2014-04-07 02:44 (UTC)

.............................................

hey...

LOOK SOMETIMES THESE THINGS HAPPEN AND THE AUTOPILOT SLIPS OFF AND THE GUY IN FRONT OF ME WAS STUPID AND RAN INTO MY FRONT BUMPER. BREATHE A LITTLE THIS ISN'T A LAUGHING MATTER

[ALL OF HER SAVINGS!!! ALL OF IT!! GONE SO QUICKLY.]

Edited (fucking english how does it work) 2014-04-07 02:50 (UTC)

[ This, of course, just makes him laugh harder. The tears really are streaming down his cheeks.

Until, inevitably... ]

[ ....he coughs. ]

[The wet, wretched sound robs her of her next volley of denials and disclaimers. It didn't matter how many years it had been since listening to those fits, sitting with her little brother through the night... she never really lost the pattern of it.

Her fingers on his arm are gentle, a light touch letting him know she's there, before her hands slip up to his shoulders, urging him to sit.

Mildly,] That sounds awful.

[ Laughing like that is cathartic: it's good for the soul. Even as he coughs, a sensation of quiet peace spreads through his heart, warming all its corners. Her hands touching him, and her voice have the same effect.

...

Even the fear is gone. ]

I'm sorry.

[ It's barely a whisper, spoken on the end of a breath. ]

[It makes her pause, one beat, and then the next, before the hands on his shoulders slip around and pull him into a tight, impulsive embrace. She sighs heavily, a puff against his shoulder.]

Idiot! Don't apologize for that.

[ On any other day, he might have stiffened or pulled away or simply made light of her hug, his insides twisting with guilty feelings too excruciating to bear. But this sense of peace is sufficiently strong and enduring that he accepts it, his arm coming up to return the embrace. ]

Hm.

[ After a while: ]

I'm glad I ran into you.

Edited 2014-04-09 07:18 (UTC)

Or, rather — I'm glad you ran into somebody~!

[ Oops! The giggles are back. ]

[She was, at the least, familiar with how quickly Break's moods could whip to the closed or snappish, but rarely this way. While under no influence herself, Rosette was always ruled by her moods, and expressed them as deeply as possible, in the same rushed, forward manner she lived her whole life. It made it easy to smile, returning that warmth...]

[AND THEN ATTEMPT TO PULL ON HIS DUMB CHEEKS!!!]

I TOLD YOU THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT!

[ The laughing threatens to go out of control again, despite (or perhaps because of) Rosette's cheek-pulling. But — now having some semblance of insight into what must be going on — he is able to call to mind that quiet. warm feeling again, and waits while it pours through his soul.

He puts his hands up, warding her off. ]

Of course it was! Anyway, anyway! I've got a question for you...

[ Miss Rosette he was going to say. But the "Miss" is a formality that he uses to enforce distance, and isn't that the opposite of what going on now? ]

Rosette.

[ ...

He still feels peaceful. Okay then, moving right along: ]

Have you ever been drunk?

Eh?

...

Maybe a little bit. Once... or twice. The second time was legal! Probably.

Dear me, how naughty. I never have.

[ A disapproving look, which gives way to a grin. ]

But, from what I've gathered watching intoxicated idiots exposing themselves, alcohol seems to heighten every emotion. The maudlin drunk weeps. The belligerent one fights with everybody.

I wonder if something like that isn't —

[ SMASH! A thrown bottle hits the wall over their heads and smashes. Their little hiding spot has been discovered. ]

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