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(no subject)

WHO: trash
WHERE: trash
WHEN: August
WHAT: someone singing, in the trash. to the trash?
WARNINGS: please see warnings/opt out over here

[ Yes, that is definitely a dumpster, and yes someone is inside of the dumpster singing a wandering, inconsistent little tune ]

Roaches roaches make good broaches
scatter when the light approaches
fly-ses fly-ses in many sizes
here when ever someone die-ses
ratty ratty, ratty ratty
ratty ratty ratty rat~
rat rat rat
rat rat rat
rat rat ratty rat rat rat

[ This is fine, it's a good song, and no one will stab you with discarded needles or a glass shiv if you open the dumpster and look inside. Probably. ]

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[Here's someone who's not only careless enough to be peering into dumpsters containing odd singing ladies, but is also trashy enough to be peering into dumpsters in the first place. She might be just another junkie, but he sure does like to check up that there's not folk ODing in his vicinity.]

Alright there, love? Pretty little ditty to be singin' all on your lonesome.

[It's night out, but Cass is haloed by a street light as he stares down curiously at her.]

[ she cranes her head backwards to look at him. Her neck stretches just a little too far, and there's dull yet predatory glint in her eyes. ]

I'm n-not lonesome, not lonely, not alone. There's l-lots of love in here.

[He not scurr of nobody! His brows furrow in distant sympathy as he nods along with her statement as if it's all very reasonable stuff.]

Voices in your head, is it? Or you just one of them dumpster divers who really gets into the shite they find in there? No shame in it, I've found some bleedin' good clothes lyin' in these things... dumpster clothes don't tend to make great company though.

Company . . . Uhm. There's none in my head right now, b-but it's uhhhhhh, it's a good idea.

[ her head rolls from side to side a little, while still hung back to look at him ]

Bleeding good clothes. Clothes of good bleeding.

Alright then...

[Head problems it is. He lifts the lid a little higher as he jerks his head towards the outside world.]

C'mon then, love, why don't you step outside for a sec, here? Your friends will be here waitin', they told me they would.

Did they? No, no no. I d-don't think they did. But, uhm. But you could join us in here.

In the trash pile? I've woken in enough dumpsters in my time to know there's better places to be on an evenin' like this. You sure these friends of yours wouldn't rather be down the pub having a great craic?

Craic . . . cccrraic, creak, kkkkhhh.

[ She tastes the word. How odd, to be in a place where there were words she didn't know. How the limits of her once-omniscience chafe. ]

What the fuck are you talking about?

Aye, craic. Y'know, a good time, like?

[He's leaning just a little more into the dumpster, on his tiptoes.]

My point is, there's a whole bloody world outside here, you're not gonna find much in there.

[ She peers up at him. A bug crawls across her face, but she shows no reaction. ]

Oh. Uhm, are you kind of stupid?

Am I...? [Scoffs!]

Love, I'm not the one layin' in a bleedin' dumpster with bugs crawlin' all over.

[ Ah. Hm. It certainly is something that even taking out his house's trash is a perilous experience around here.

Something about this is...familiar? Has he met this person before? Either way, he takes a minute to listen to the rest of the song before easing up to the dumpster and knocking on the side. ]

Are- are you alright?

Oh, no, not alright at all, not at all.

E-everyone in here's uhm, everyone's - aheh- everyone very sinister.

[ It's not that Fortunato doesn't get the feeling of everything around being sinister, it's just that it's a strange thing to say while you're in a dumpster. And he's worried this person hit their head.

Somewhat hesitantly, he opens up the top of the dumpster and looks in. This is. Hm. ]

...I can help you get out. [ Is that what she wants...? ]

[ There there Fortunato, not everyone can be an alien worm god, making bad puns out of latin roots. ]

You actually can't though.

[ Is this that person who was on the network awhile back? He's not sure if he should even ask, because he suspects he's not going to get an actual answer.

Instead he just tries to process what she just said. Which is...inexplicable. She doesn't seem hurt. ]

No, I could- I could help you get up? [ Is he missing something? ] Are you...trapped?

Trapped . . . yes, I'm trapped. Right here, in the meat.

[ Well, he has no idea what that means.

That said- there's a snapped-off broom handle lying on the ground near the garbage bin, probably having been knocked out of the dumpster itself at some point. He walks off for a moment, and comes back holding the handle over the top of the dumpster. ]

Here- [ He starts lowering it into the dumpster next to her. ] Take this.

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