maskormenacelogs | ( open ) if you're brave enough you'll just let it happen

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( open ) if you're brave enough you'll just let it happen

WHO: GILBERT and YOU
WHERE: Heropa, specific places.
WHEN: 4/14 ― 4/18
WHAT: Pseudo-Victorian man going about one of his last couple to few weeks before moving out of the city.
WARNINGS: Super brief mention of an old and violent event. TBA otherwise.
NOTE: You are also free to wildcard if you have a more specific scenario you would like to play. PM me on this account and we can work something out.

➊ MONDAY | grocery store

[ Gil is a man who is far more likely to bark rather than bite, unless pushed to certain extremes. However, those extremes are limited, if not rare, without his young master to follow everywhere like a lost puppy. He whines about his fellow housemates "not" taking on responsibilities expected in a shared housing situation, but proceeds to carry the bulk of the work, even without yet announcing his intentions to move out in the next few weeks when he's ready to do so.

It's that illogical thinking, but heightened responsibility toward others that puts him at the grocery store near evening time after another long day at work, pushing around a cart already loaded with some of the necessities. There's bread, milk, eggs, and butter so far. He's kept his cardigan on as he wheels through the fruits and vegetables section of the large store, the cool air that keeps the products fresh nipping at the corner of his hands. He stops by the packaged strawberries, lifting one of the containers to peer around the corners and determine whether or not they're fresh enough to purchase. He instantly recoils in disgust seeing a white fuzz growing in a corner anyone could have missed. Without wasting a second, he puts it down and goes for another plastic box. ]

➋ TUESDAY | smoke shop

[ And sadly, he is still a man with his own undefeated vices. He's slowly begun to ease properly into work at the tea shop, but part of it remains stressful when he can't conceal the fact he's an imPort and a gaggle of young women show up around coordinated lunch breaks just so Gil can specifically serve them.

It's stressful and he's going through his packs quickly, accompanied by the fact smoking isn't banned in public areas like they had been in the City, and so every now and then a man around his age or older approaches him to ask if he's got a cigarette to spare. He partly feels like a cigarette charity when it happens multiple times in a week.

There are some young boys who ask him just before he enters the shop to buy them a pack, but none of them look older than fifteen and he easily refuses, much to their chagrin. They groan and one of them says, "Thought you imPorts were s'posed to be cool" before they wander away perhaps in search of another adult who will get them what they want.

He enters the shop, heading straight for the counter and pointing to a pack of Marlboro Red. ]

➌ WEDNESDAY-FRIDAY | coffeehouse

[ Overpriced caffeinated drinks are one of Gil's many pet peeves about modern society, but he finds himself at one of the more popular shops today, waiting in line patiently for black coffee. Some other days he only comes for a bottle of water, given how warm it gets and his inability to endure the humidity for long. There may be drinking fountains available in the parks, but there is no way he is sticking his mouth or hands near anything anyone and everyone drinks from.

It really does not help that he's often wearing a light scarf around his neck in this weather, but between suffering insufferable Floridian weather and revealing a certain reminder from HABIT's "game" that one November, Gil would much rather suffer. Often, he wonders if there are imPorts with the ability to heal the skin, but first it would require trusting someone enough to do it for him without asking questions.

He's not sure if that's a possibility. ]

➍ ANYTIME | residence #004

[ Whatever the housemates want. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[For the last few days, Rochelle took everyone's advice and tried taking it slow. It had only been a couple weeks since her world started going to shit (as if that made it no big deal), but it might take a hell of a lot longer for the producer to get used to a normal life again.

She was sure as hell going to try, though.

Starting with some coffee. And oh god, was it working some magic. Rochelle sat at a tiny chair next to the door, people watching and enjoying her coffee. And "enjoying" was officially this year's understatement. She wasn't going to say this was the best cup she ever had out LOUD, but you could probably tell by the enormous smile and the way her body eased into her seat that it was.

Just as she came up for air, Gilbert caught her attention.

... Huh.]

How hot is it with that thing?

[She made a motion to her own neck, gesturing that she was talking about his scarf.

Not like that would judge if she knew he was hiding something. Rochelle had plenty of bruises and bandages wrapped and littered around her body that she couldn't talk.]

[ Gil is either willfully ignorant, or naïve enough to believe imPorts and locals wouldn't think twice about the scarf in this weather. Alright, maybe not linger on the thought for too long. Different subgroups have made bizarre fashion statements, so who's to say this isn't his?

It isn't, but he is conscious enough to keep his clothes colour coordinated. Mostly black, with a white shirt and blue accents on the cardigan. The scarf is jet black and just thick enough so most of his neck can't be seen. Had he been anywhere but Florida, he might have been called a hipster.

He looks around, trying to pinpoint who it is addressing him. A woman, obviously, and once he spots Rochelle, Gil stares at her as if to ask, Who, me? ]

The... [ He trails off at first before his fingers brush the ends of the scarf. ] The scarf, you mean?

The scarf, yeah.

[She lowers her gesturing hand before offering him a little greeting wave.]

Aren't you hot?

[ He rubs the ends of the scarf between his fingers self-consciously now. No one's ever been this bold to point it out publicly. When a lump snags in his throat, he tries his best to force it down with a heavy swallow before responding to her.

He doesn't feel too warm in an air conditioned coffee shop despite espresso machines at constant, heated work at the front of the counter. ]

... Not at all, I'm fine.

[Rochelle quirked an eyebrow as she readjusted herself and leaned forward in her seat. She wasn't used to the Florida heat either. But the light clothes she wore also kept her bandages from bothering her too much.]

Well, if you say so. I'm from Cleveland, so I can't talk.

Oh, and uh. I'm Rochelle, by the way.

Cleve ―

[ His unfamiliarity with the location is interrupted by the barista addressing him and asking what he would like to have today. He looks quickly from the barista, to Rochelle, then back to the other young woman behind the counter. ]

A bottle of water is fine.

[ He digs into his pocket for his wallet and pays with near exact change. He's handed the bottle of water and he walks away, moving toward Rochelle's table, but not taking a seat. It would be imprudent of him to do so if she hasn't given him permission to sit. ]

Sorry... Rochelle? [ He repeats just so he didn't get her name wrong. ] Ah, I'm Gilbert.

Oop--sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt that. [Rochelle grinned a little. She motioned a hand out for him to sit. Why not? He seemed interesting enough. And she told herself she needed to make friends.] Rochelle or 'Ro'. You can call me whatever. Nice to meet you.

It's alright.

[ It wasn't anything important, just water he could buy from any other store, he supposes.

When Rochelle gesticulates to the chair, he takes a moment to eye the chair apprehensively. He's not disrupting her peace and quiet, is he? Or she's waiting for someone? It always comes across as a bold gesture to him, to invite a stranger to come and join you. ]

Miss Rochelle. [ Most women don't like it when he addresses them as such, but different era and all. ] It's nice to meet you, too.

[ imPort? Local? He would look toward her arm, though wandering eyes is a bad idea before a woman... ]

[... okay, she couldn't tell he just didn't wanna sit down or if he was confused. maybe she had to make it more obvious.]

If you wanna, you can sit down. I'm new, by the way. Just got here a few days ago.

imPort?

[ So she is one.

And at her second request, he finally pulls the chair out and settles into the seat, placing the clear bottle in front of him. Even the water in these stores are overpriced.

He's not particularly good at socializing, even after all this time spent out of his universe, but he's always found it harder to speak to women. Rochelle clearly being a woman who has no qualms talking to strangers. ]

Have you been settling in alright?

Oh, right. That's the word for it. imPort. [Weird.] What about you?

[And before she forgot--]

You don't have to call me 'Miss', by the way.

[It was honestly flattering, but at the same time felt so weird to hear.]

Pretty... okay, yeah. It's a long story.

[ His hands settles against his legs, sitting up proper and trying to keep eye contact with Rochelle. However, every few seconds his gaze drifts to the table, the bottle... everywhere. ]

Are you sure? It does seem impolite otherwise... [ Modern day women are a mystery to him.

He tilts his head, eyes widening a touch at her answer in response to his previous question. ] "Long story"? [ A beat. ] You don't have to talk about it, if you'd prefer. We did just meet...

[Rochelle would have answered the question(s), but... then she caught herself.]

Sorry--am I putting you on the spot? Like you said, we just met.

[ He glances back at her and quickly lifts a hand, waving them both. ]

No! No, it's nothing...

[ Okay, it's a little like that, but he's not angry with her. He's mainly embarrassed with himself, which shows when his cheeks glow a faint pink. He lowers one hand, the other rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. ]

I'm not very good at this, but that's my fault.

[... ok. Rochelle tilts her head. She smiles a little and tried not to laugh. Not to mock him or anything. She actually finds the awkwardness kind of cute.]

Okay, I DID put you on the spot. My bad.

You have nothing to apologize for!

[ That gets a couple of heads to turn before he sinks back into his seat. ]

I'm fine... honestly. [ He lowers his voice. ] It was surprising at first, that's all.

[ The fact she's putting up with this continues to surprise him. She hasn't even made fun of him yet. He's half-expecting and braced for some snide comment about being "weird". ]

We can talk.

[Whoah. Rochelle stared at him a minute with everyone else that was looking over at them.

Cue eyebrow-raise.]

O... kay. [Yep, she had put him on the spot. But seemed like he kind of wanted to talk at this same time? Okay. This was like the opposite of talking to Coach, Ellis, and Nick. And as sure as hell as she missed them, in a weird way, this was kind of refreshing.]

Uh, sure! Sure. [OKAY SO MAYBE A SUBJECT CHANGE WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA] So are you an imPort too?

... Yes.

[ His face continues to glow. It's as if he hasn't matured at all and that's embarrassing. He should be able to hold a single conversation with someone. ]

Were you at Maurtia Falls for the Ceremony?

[u ok buddy]

Yeah, I was. It was... weird. For more reasons than one. I still didn't get what exactly I was signing up for at the time.

[ Currently trying to figure that out.

But in all honesty, he does begin to ease up. It's slow, but gradual as she conveys her confusion on what he assumes is their entire predicament. There isn't anyone who appears to understand what they are here for besides or what will be done with them in the future. ]

They're not very clear about their goals.

No, they aren't. [Ro sighed a little at that.] Granted, I was exhausted when they brought me here. One of the only things I could think about then was getting a free bed and a free roof over my head.

It's understandable.

[ He remembers the shock he felt when he had first arrived and then how exhausted he was by the end of the day. Not even a cigarette helped to clear his mind. He spent week after week sleeping very little, unable to shake the images of a dying universe from his memory.

He still can't.

The bottle of water continues to go untouched. ]

They're kind enough to provide that much for new arrivals.

[ Or highly manipulative. ]

What kind of 'kind'?

[Honest question. Now that she had some rest and cleared her mind, she was starting to realize how manipulative it all was.]

[ It takes him a moment to parse Rochelle's question. His eyes flick to the edge of the table first, lost in thought temporarily as he mulls over it. Then he looks back at her, something in his expression hinting what most people thought about this world so far: it's not all it seems and there's something underneath its surface. ]

Thoughtful.

[ They didn't just give them a roof over their heads ― they gave them clean, up to date houses with all the utilities readily available and clean sheets and mattresses. It's awfully thoughtful. ]

They haven't been cruel or impatient with those who decided not to register. I haven't heard anything about unsettled imPorts having to vacate the houses.

3. Hope this is ok!

totally fine! +_+

SWEET

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