maskormenacelogs | I'll take the long way 'round

Entry tags:

I'll take the long way 'round

WHO: Joel & OPEN.
WHERE: Various! Around both Heropa and Pennsylvania.
WHEN: Through July.
WHAT: Doing dead drops, smuggling drugs, being a dad, being a prick… The usual.
WARNINGS: Will edit if anything arises!

» coffee shop in heropa | open

[Joel has a long drive ahead of him to Pennsylvania. About seventeen hours if he drives straight without a break, which ain't gonna happen. He's picked up a rental car - something mundane and bland looking, something that doesn't stand out - and he's said his extremely reluctant goodbyes to Ellie, promised her he'll be back in a few days.

It's pretty early in the morning and so that means he's not going anywhere until he's had his fill of coffee. He's pretty miserable. Pretty grumpy and sullen-looking. Nothing new there. What's prompting it this morning, though, is leaving Ellie. He hates leaving her. It makes him damn nervous. He misses her like hell already and he's barely even a few blocks away from his apartment.

The secret life of a drug mule. It ain't easy.]

» in a diner halfway between heropa and pennsylvania | open

[Ten hours into the trip and he's had to stop for the night. He's paid for a cheap motel room to stay in overnight - paid in cash, of course, keeping things suitably careful and nondescript, so nothing looks suspicious - and he's now he's heading into a cheap, kind of run-down looking diner after having just filled up the car with gas. Not that it's run-down to him. Hell, run-down is like luxury to him, after twenty years of living in streets festering with dead bodies, rotted out cars and collapsing buildings.

If there's anything good about this smuggling job… It's a lot cleaner, a lot easier, a lot simpler than the smuggling jobs he did back in the quarantine zone. At least he can drive a car, not have to go trudging through rain and hail and sleet. At least he can take a break and have some decent food and some coffee. At least he doesn't have to run for his life from Clickers or wonder how the hell he's going to get around patrol outside of curfew. At least there are no kids to smuggle.

Shit, he misses Ellie.]

» calling ellie from his motel room | closed to ellie

[It's kinda late by the time he gets back to the motel room. He's tired and he's pretty grumpy, but he's had a decent meal at the diner and he's had a hot shower. And so now, he's reclining on the bed, propped up against the cheap pine headboard with a few lumpy pillows with the television on while nursing a beer that he's helped himself to from the motel's bar fridge.

He flicks through the channels and upon finding nothing that really grabs his attention, he tosses the remote aside and reaches across to his bedside table for one of his burner phones. He's got two: one with Jesse's number it in, and one with the number of the burner phone he gave Ellie. The last thing he wants is records of long-distance conversations with Ellie where he's got no cover to explain why the hell he's travelling back and forth between Heropa and Pennsylvania all the time. Not to mention he doesn't want to run the risk of talking anything to do with smuggling over their handheld devices.

He flips the phone open and presses her number locked into the speed dial, and holds the phone against his ear as he takes a sip of beer.]

» a bar in pennsylvania | open

[He's made the drops. Picked up the cash from dead drop points. Time to head home. Except it's late, it's raining, he's tired, he could really use a drink. Might as well stay the night in Pennsylvania and drive back in the morning.

Much like his stay overnight halfway between Pennsylvania and Heropa, he's paid for another cheap motel in cash. He'll call Ellie when he gets back there, tell her what's going on, but for now - he's sitting at the bar, dressed in a red flannel shirt and old looking jeans, sipping a Jack and Coke. Every now and again, he glances up at the television playing overhead.

It's only his first drink; as he finishes it off, he sets the glass down and shoves it towards the bartender with a push of his fingers.]

Another, thanks.

» back home in heropa | open

» option 1
[Now he's back home, Joel has got things he's gotta do. He no longer has the mundane looking rental car but his old red '57 Chevrolet, which rumbles loudly due to a hole in the muffler and looks like it needs to be stripped right back and refurbished.

He goes grocery shopping - and hell, walking around a supermarket is still a pretty surreal experience, seeing all those shelves of food at his disposal, all that fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, meat, alcohol, Christ it's still all so overwhelming even a month after being here. And as for being surrounded by people, well, that's one of the perks of doing these drops between here and Pennsylvania, he supposes: way less people to deal with, as opposed to the supermarket and the mall, where there are far too many people, as far as Joel is concerned. Too many untrustworthy, unpredictable people. Though he keeps it very carefully concealed, he still heads around town with a pistol tucked into the back of his waistband. Just in case.]

» option 2
[Most afternoons, when he's not busy doing a drop, he waits outside the ice cream parlour where Ellie works to walk - or sometime drive - her home. He can be found sitting on a bench nearby, or standing against a wall near the shop with his arms crossed over his chest, just waiting. He does a lot of people watching while he waits, always keeping an eye out for danger. And, like when he goes shopping, always has his pistol concealed in his waistband. Just in case.]

» option 3
[He's got more money than he knows what to do with now. He's hardly spent any of it. Some days, though, he'll go down to the electronics store to browse through the movies and music. Movies he wants to show Ellie, music he wants to introduce her to. He's bought a big TV and a DVD machine, that he's crammed into the small bedroom they share; there are nights when neither of them can sleep and so they stay up watching movies together.

Sometimes, with DVDs or CDs clutched in his hand, he'll head over to the section in the electronic store where they sell pianos and guitars and instruments. He tinkers on the pianos, pressing keys here and there, and sometimes gives the guitars a quiet strum and a longing look as if debating whether to take one down and play it. Damn it, he's missed playing music.]

[[ooc; If there's anything else you'd like to do with Joel, feel free to set up a thread!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Joel just gives a vague snort at that first remark, the corner of his mouth quirking up in the briefest hint of an amused almost-smile. Emphasis on brief. It's gone as soon as it appears.

Uncrossing his arms, he gives a one-shouldered shrug as he reaches for his drink.]

Been on far longer trips. This is nothin'. Guess traffic's the thing that's hardest to get used to.

[And no Infected. And no Hunters. And no military - at least, not martial law kinda military. And no apocalypse.]

Edited 2014-07-11 10:14 (UTC)

Better keep outta New York. Tried driving there once, never again.

[It's even more annoying when she knows that she could just as easily fly and save herself the trouble.]

Heh. Wouldn't go drivin' through there even if I had a drop to make.

[Okay, maybe he would - driving through New York would be comparably pretty low on the list of horrible things to do in life for Joel.

He takes a quick sip of his drink.]

Everyone knows not to drive through New York. That's just askin' for trouble.

You're smarter than you look.

[Wow Kara you're rude.]

Didn't used to be so bad there, but it's gotten outta control in the last few decades.

[Joel just gives another nonchalant, one-shouldered shrug. He knows he's not stupid when it comes to practical things, at least. And as for rude comments, he's used to it. Everyone is an asshole back where he's from, including himself.]

The last coupla decades back where I'm from, New York's turned into nothin' but a giant wasteland. Like all the big cities.

[Her saying 'the last few decades' has him giving her another assessing look, though.]

...How old did you say you were again?

[He's pretty sure she didn't. She looks about early 20s, though.]

Still trying to figure that whole thing out.

[His world, she means. She's picked up bits and pieces from Joel and Ellie, but she generally has a policy of 'not being too fucking nosy', so she hasn't asked too much about it.]

I didn't, but I'm getting close to a thousand. Lost track of the exact number a while ago.

[Alright, well, that's got Joel staring at her with a faint incredulous frown. There's only one thing that's stopping him from being convinced she's a nutcase like he'd thought her to be when he very first spoke to her, and that's the fact that he's come across all kinds of things since being in this place. It's taken him more than a month to accept that superpowers are actually a thing here, let alone the whole supernatural thing. Like, valk-- whatever this girl says she is. Grim Reaper.]

...Well, guess you've aged a bit better than I have.

[He literally has no idea what else to say to that. He's too tired to even try to wrap his head around her being nearly a millennia years-old.]

[It's not an expression she's been on the end of all that often, because back home she keeps what she is to herself, and here, most people have become quickly accustomed to weird shit, considering the circumstances.

But she'll deal with it.]

Stopped aging the day I got made a valkyrie. It's one of the perks.

[Joel takes another sip of his drink, a longer one. Yeah, okay. He has no idea what she's talking about. All he knows is she's a Grim Reaper and she believes in gods and gods are real in her world, and--

Yeah, this kind of thing does only one of two things: goes right over his head or makes him annoyed. In this particular case, because he's literally too tired, it just goes over his head.]

Alright, then.

[Another sip of his drink. He sets it back down on the table, taps the side of the glass with his forefinger as he studies Kara.]

Well, I sure wouldn't wanna live that long. Almost fifty years has been damn long enough.

Edited 2014-07-11 12:09 (UTC)

Lotta people say that, but you adjust pretty quick.

[Sometimes humans that suddenly get immortally go crazy, but they don't talk about those people.]

I've gotten to see more than most people'd ever dream of. Places and people and all sorts of things.

[For all that she pretends to be cynical and bitter, there is a lot about life she enjoys.]

Ain't nothin' to see back in my world. Just death. Nothin' else. I've seen enough bullshit for one lifetime. That's enough for me.

[There's very little Joel enjoys about life and it's been that way for a long time. Ellie is the only thing that's brought about any sense of hope for him.]

Alright, what is the deal with your world?

[Now he's got her really curious, about what exactly went wrong.]

[He looks down at his drink, his lips pulling into a thin, cynical line.]

An infection broke out, wiped out over sixty percent of the human population. Governments collapsed, martial law was declared, quarantine zones were set up, cities were bombed to deal with Infected. People killin' each other left, right and centre just to stay alive. It's been that way for over twenty years.

Guess that's the short version.

[There's a lot she could say to that, but she decides to let it sink in for a moment first, because - shit. She's not gonna give him any pity, it's not really her thing and she doubts Joel would want it, anyway.]

Living here must be a nice fucking break from that shit.

Yeah. [He takes a sip from his drink.] Guess I'm still tryin'a get used to it.

[He says this in a matter-of-fact way, like it's no big deal. The truth is a different story, though. Not a day goes by where he's not on edge, on guard, waiting for Infected to come stampeding into a room to rip his throat apart, or Hunters to ambush and shoot him in the face with shotguns while he's driving through the quieter parts of town. Whenever he passes military personnel, he can't help expecting them to kick him to the ground to conduct a random Infected test while holding an assault rifle to his head, ready to shoot him execution-style.

He almost always instinctively will reach for his gun, which he carries with him everywhere no matter what, if someone comes up behind him. Sudden loud noises and sudden movements can send him reeling into survival mode, ready start killing whatever he momentarily thinks is coming to kill him.

And leaving Ellie on her own... Well, that's a whole other story right there.

Yeah, he's still trying to get used to the peace and civility here.]

Still wearing your boots to bed, huh?

[It's still not pity, but she's, well.

She's a valkyrie, warriors are her thing, even if she doesn't do her job the same way she used to. Even if they're not typical warriors, she's seen enough soldiers come back from war and be unable to adjust to civilian life that she can guess it's the same sorta thing for Joel.]

Heh. No, that's one habit I don't gotta do anymore. I've done my time sleepin' on filthy mattresses.

[He knows what she really means, though. He just doesn't want to address what she really means.]

Used to know this girl who'd sleep with her gun tucked into her pajama pants after she came back from Vietnam. Shot me in the leg one night 'cause I startled her.

[Kara shrugs, taking a drag of her cigarette before she continues.]

Think it takes a while to give up that sorta shit, no matter what got you into the habit in the first place.

[Whether it's war or some infection that wiped out half the world.]

[He rests his elbows on the table with his hands clasped together, staring down at his drink for a moment.]

I guess.

[This conversation is starting to make him uncomfortable. Time to switch gears.]

Vietnam, huh? That's way before my time.

[She knows a topic change when she sees one, and her estimation of Joel has changed a little, now that she knows more.]

I spent a few years over there, watching out for people. That whole war was a fucking mess. I guess Emily wasn't technically a soldier, just a nurse, but I made sure she lived through it.

[Kara liked her a lot, in her own way, but she was careful not to get too attached. It's hard watching people grow old and die.]

[Strangely, his estimation of Kara has slowly changed a little, too. Ever since she came to his apartment and threatened to cut his hand off, in fact. She still weirds him out but he's got a kind of respect for her. If anything, he has to admit that she talks like a person (or Grim Reaper in her case, he supposes?) who's seen life at its worst. He gets that. He gets that a lot.]

Pretty sure all wars are like that. [A fucking mess, that is.] Havin' to fight to survive, ain't no better way to bring out the worst in people.

Used to be different, before guns and all that shit. I mean - [she gestures lazily at herself] - viking, so I can't say much about honor and all that. But trench warfare is something else. And then the jungle, landmines, all that. Most of the guy's that came home never really got better.

[Viking? What, like those guys with long beards and horns on their helmets?]

Different, how? War's war, ain't it? Don't matter how it happens. It's still just a bunch of people doin' whatever it takes to survive.

[She hates pop culture for the helmet horns thing.]

About five million people died in the Napoleonic Wars. They lasted over ten years, with muskets and canons. Almost ninety million died in the Second World War, in only five years.

Heh. Guess I see your point.

[He takes a longer sip from his drink.]

And you... what? Choose who dies or somethin'?

[He can't really recall what she'd said about being a Grim Reaper. Something about gods and choosing who stays and who goes to Heaven or some bullshit.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject