maskormenacelogs | Everybody wants to rule the world

"Oh my god, I know right? They tried to get me to pick a color and I was, like, no. Noooo way. I can't pick a favorite from red, white, and blue. So I picked purple! Which is, like, the perfect mix of them all."

Interacting with the crowds was an April that, on occasion, had made an appearance at City Hall. Chipper, smiling, enthusiastic. Essentially enough to set off liar, lair bells in anyone that had known her for more than ten seconds. She was a parody of a person here in the Florida heat, easier to fall into the game than think about what it all meant. She was made of pep, enthusiasm, and random slogans with no real meaning or direction behind them. Because when the goings got tough, April started fucking with people. Call it a defense mechanism.

She had to bite her lip when she spotted Eddie, though, using the gesture to make it look like she was trying to stop herself from crying instead of grinning.

"I just...I love the flag. So. Much."

"Stop doing that," he hissed. He caught that whiff of conversation, and the falsehood underlying it -- the agonizing, sharp falsehood. Despite appearances, it was fortunate timing on his part; the rest of her interaction had been just out of earshot. She hadn't yet made him writhe on the ground of their bright and bustling new city.

He stepped over quickly, his hand going for April's shoulder. The native admirers she had wrangled had to go.

"Hello, excuse me. Edward Nygma, Deputy Ma--"

Except that wasn't the case here, was it? His mouth twisted painfully, forcing a smile.

"Ah. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, will you excuse us a moment? April and I, we're having an impromptu reunion."

Play it or leave it. There was a half second- a beat of uncertainty readable on her face- before she chose. And chose hard. She had years of history with one man in the crowd, five minutes with the rest. She figured she could get forgiveness more easily out of one than the other.

"And my hero!"

There was no real explanation for where the southern accent came from with that- oddly truthful- proclamation. Blame it on the face they're now south of the Mason–Dixon. But there it was. Her grin grew as she placed one hand over his on her shoulder, positively beaming up at him.

"But he's right, friends. It's been ages and ages- why, with the amount we got to cover? Like my mama used to say, we'll be busy as a cat on a hot tin roof."

"What's with the Tennessee Williams allusions? I never took you for a theatre lover."

He glanced between the friendly natives and his former assistant, suddenly far more suspicious of April's antics than whatever Nixonian tinkering their governmental hosts might be up to. After all -- April was far more motivated than most congressional bodies.

The comparison caused a dour sneer on the man's face.

"Toodles," he said as they departed from their kindly hosts, his eyes rolling somewhat.

"Not even a day, and already causing heartbreak? Or would this better classified as heartburn?" Eddie's tone took an unintended paternal roll. "Really, April, you've survived the whole past week only to play risk here? Now?"

Edited 2014-01-16 05:24 (UTC)

"They gave me a tattoo. I'm allowed to play whatever board game I want."

The accent was gone the second the stepped past the locals, as were the straight spine and squared shoulders. It was back to slumped at her desk and waiting for the day it would all end April. That was, possibly, standing slightly closer to Eddie than normal. Because without dramatics, he was the next best shield against this reality she currently had.

Edward closed his eyes, feeling the rub of an infant headache above the bridge of his nose.

"Board games, for the bored? We all got the tattoo, April, and it's all the more reason to keep one's head down."

Sensing her atomically closer motion, he gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, the kneejerk tension abating. He couldn't plausibly deny the appeal of courting danger to stave off boredom.

"They call it down time, but there's nothing relaxing about the hours between now and eight this evening. There's plenty to investigate, if you're so keen for stimulation."

"Mm. I was promised a secretary job."

Even if she was supposed to be a...something else, now. She hadn't even read the file, to be honest. Just looked at it for a moment as the words all blurred together, then moved on.

After the shoulder squeeze, there wasn't that much room between them as they walked, some of the tension going as she stepped back into something familiar. Forget being in a new world, ignore the people. She was working for the boss now.

"For your new PI. Thing."

Edward glanced sidelong, concern writing a novel between his eyes. He hadn't forgotten about his assignments, his folder. The information collected on him, the decisions made for him. The topic brought nails to his teeth, causing him to buckle down a tightening jaw.

"They disagree with the PI thing," he said at last. "You've perused these folders, yes? Or -- " the absurdity of that statement matched to his audience hit. "You've at least glanced at them, haven't you? At yours?"

It wasn't phrased in a gentle way, but April's boss had never been a gentle man from the exterior. None of them were, really.

"It certainly sends a message."

"It's just paper. They told me what job I should have in high school, too. First professional delinquent in Pawnee history."

The joys of not technically answering a question. It was how she'd survived with Eddie so far, no reason to stop it just because they were in a whole new world. The whole impact of being assigned a job wasn't really a concern for her. Like anything, words coming down from on high were taken as more suggestions than anything to April.

"What. Did you get prostitute or something."

The sound Edward made quirked somewhere between a strangled gasp and a shrill. His glower matched the unclouded sun above.

"No, I did not get prostitute. I was a politician, not a--" Wait. "And before that I as a private detective, thank you very much." Perhaps a bit of a misstep, since he circled back to the topic he was trying to avoid: his declared, effortless new career was simply handed to him. But it wasn't anything he had prior literal experience in.

"Logic professor." A beat followed, the phrase turning over his lips. Eddie had always carried a deeply seeded mistrust of those institutions claiming higher learning. "Assistant logic professor, that's what they insisted upon."

He glanced expectantly at his company.

"What about you?"

She would have hugged him after the glower, if they were those kind of people. Normalcy. It had been hard enough to come across in the City, never mind here. But that look was like nothing changed. So, despite his irritation, April relaxed a fraction more as they took in the sights.

"They put me in charge of the youth, too. RA. So they hate themselves and their young as much as we do, I guess. But it's not like we have to take it."

"I wonder if we've been dedicated to the same university?"

It could prove opportunistic; from the preliminary research he had done concerning institutions of higher learning, he had determined them to function more politically than intellectually. After all, college was but a clever business maneuver, and thus depended upon apt salespeople -- much like local politics.

"I'd pity the children, but perhaps this could work efficiently for the two of us. What better place to pitch our own agendas?"

"We've been here ten minutes-"

And then she ended that sentence, remembering just the person she was talking to. April may just be attempting to keep her head above water, but that's why she was happier in supporting roles.

"Of course 'we' have an agenda. So long as I don't have to watch a power point lecture about it."

"You have an agenda?"

The question was poised a bit coyly, a smattering of teasing smiles fluttering along his sharper words. The usual Eddie Nygma way of address his kindly audiences.

"I thought I was using more of a royal we. But by all means! Don't hold back on your brainstorming, do tell me of your hopes and dreams."

He assumed her angle would involve something akin to the dynasty she held over interns back at old City Hall.

"The same plan it's always been: the end of society as we know it."

It's been too long a week for the perfect dead-pan, so an eye roll accompanies that. Hopes? Dreams? Talk about energy consuming.

"And to still be alive tomorrow- ngh. Which might be harder here. Porter free. And everything."

"Lachesis liberated, at any rate." Which might be, or might not be, quite the beneficial thing. It made him rather uneasy that their presence seemed so controlled by external and plainly native forces; moreover, trading in a chaotic neutral impetus could prove ironically more disorderly.

These were his concerns, anyway.

"Do you miss her? Lachesis, I mean. She always reminded me of you."

She half-opened her mouth to demand if he were calling her fat, the swallowed instead before answering. Surviving the end times had to buy at least a little honesty.

"It was nice to have a god that picked up the phone. Now all we've got are people. And I hate those."

"Yet another quality that you and she had in common," he replied -- this time with a roll of his eyes. Touching moment extinguished. But at least the honesty was still raw, and he appreciated that; April was an individual with talents that she seemed quite eager to mask, and that made Eddie all the more intent on putting her in situations that challenged her.

Even in small interpersonal moments, like this one.

"A healthy dislike of your peers never harmed better prospects, however."

Everybody wants to rule the world

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