maskormenacelogs | They let me call one person on the phone [Closed]

Off to the left of the steps to the small station was a gathering of people, about 30ft away perhaps. Some locals excited about taking pictures with imPorts. The small manicured lawn and sidewalk otherwise empty as it lead up to the doors.

It was strange that the house had a landline at all considering that they all had been issued personal cellphone-like devices. But maybe it was for situations like this. This wasn't the first time Betty had had to bail a stranger out of jail, but usually she knew a little more about why they were there in the first place. A fourth housemate? She hoped this "Daryl Dixon" wasn't superstitious.

The route to the police station was entirely unremarkable, although there was the miniature commotion off to the side. She ignored it on the way in, making her way to the desk, which first informed her Mr. Dixon would be right out, and then that Mr. Dixon must have been already checked out. Her insistence that no one else from the house could have been by was met with apathetic shrugs, so she was forced to give up.

That was a walk wasted, anyway.

She stood around outside the door of the station for a while, irritated, before chatter about imPorts eventually drew her to the small crowd from earlier. "Hey, what's going on?"

Some of the locals on the outskirts of the photo-op looked over at her. One smiled brightly and showed her device which had a picture of her with a scowling man, white angel-like wings held up behind him in a relaxed manner. Both of them giving the camera the middle finger.

"New imPort's letting us get pictures with him for cheap. He's pretty cool," she said. "Doesn't have a superhero name. Think Enid said it's Daryl. I mostly wanted a picture with Enid because she's awesome, but he's her friend or something. And he's got great arms."

Well... he was entrepreneurial. De Chima was definitely his city. And hey, a picture was a good sign. It meant at least Mr. Dixon showed up in photographs. At least he had physical form. At least... She should stop spending so much time with her housemates.

The wings would say imPort if the glowering didn't say it first; maybe that expression was part of his "look", like he was going for a stoic and manly impression. The local woman was right about his arms too.

"Huh, thanks," she told her. "I'm looking for a Daryl." Even with a crowd like this, her elusive housemate couldn't be that hard to pick out, especially if he was at the center of attention, right? Although the crowd was breaking up a little. She thought she saw someone who looked sort of like the photo standing near a girl with long brown hair, but when she looked again, he was gone.

(ooc: thank you for npcing, btw! should i tap enid-mun, or would you like them to meet after all?)

The girl with long brown hair, Enid still stood where Daryl's roommate had first spotted her though, unaware she was being watched at all.

"Uh, sorry, he'll be right back." She announced to crowd, ignoring the few voices that sighed or grumbled. All she felt responsible for anyway was making sure the people who took their pictures got going right after so as not to hound them for more and no one other than who already paid for the photo op was allowed in the line that was there.

She was clearly the person to ask if anyone was looking for where Daryl was, though.

That was promising. This girl looked like she was a teenager though. Maybe she was his... daughter from back home? Or an intern he hired to help run his celebrity marketing event? Probably an intern.

Somehow, largely because Betty wasn't trying to get into line, she managed to make her way near Enid. "Excuse me. Excuse me? I'm looking for Mr. Dixon; was that him?" I'm supposed to pick him up from jail - maybe not announcing that would be better for business.

Announcing that might actually be better for business. Give his whole anti-establishment bad boy no-fucks-given appearance a sense of legitimacy. Not that Daryl would actually want it glorified. He hated the fact that he'd gotten arrested. Really hated that he'd let himself get so into the fight that he hadn't pulled himself off when the cops showed. Hated that he'd forgotten he needed to do that to avoid getting processed.

Of course, he hated the photo-op Enid had arranged just as much. All that attention just because he had that damn stamp on his wrist had made his wings pop out before the pictures started happening. And now that they were in the middle of it, all he wanted to do was wrap the damn things around himself and block out as much of the stares as he could. Not that he'd called them on purpose. Just that, now they were out, he wanted to hide behind them. Which meant he couldn't.

But he could take a break from the pictures to walk off behind a cluster of trees that didn't really hide him. Just gave him a moment to collect himself and get a better look at the line. It felt never-ending when he was up there letting people stand next to him. From his new vantage, though, it was pretty short. Maybe another 15 to 20 people.

He could do this.

He didn't want to.

But he could.

He sucked in another breath and headed back to where Enid was. Got there just in time to hear the woman ask about him.

"Daryl," he said from behind her, grunting the word out as his wings flexed and his shoulders hunched. They wanted expand on him, spread out like an umbrella. It made him look more relaxed than he actually was. At least at their current spread. "Ain't ever gone by Mr. Dixon. What'd you want?"

Announcing that might actually be better for business, but at this point more people coming into the crowd was unwelcome. Enid wasn't liking this as much as Daryl was, but it was her idea so she was sticking with it til the end. Thus when Betty approached her, she didn't give her all that receptive of a look.

Just a raised eyebrow, before opening her mouth to ask Why? Before she can, though, Daryl comes back and speaks for himself. So instead, she nods her head over to him, confirming what he says. "That's him."

Now she figures the two of them could talk. If the woman was there for a photo op liked it seemed, he could turn her down.

Betty caught the tail end of Enid's silent 'why' as she's turning at the grunt behind her, and, yup, that's the fellow in the photograph all right. Somehow his expression seems a lot less contrived in person.

"Daryl," she repeated. A little more stiffly than her original address to Enid, "I'm Dr. Ross. I received a call that you needed someone to pick you up?" She gestures behind her toward the station. That's right, let's take this directly back to the whole business of getting arrest and needing to get bailed out. But subtly. "But it looks like you're fine now."

He hadn't been the source of the call, and clearly he and his... intern here (she took another quick glance at the girl - yeah, probably not related) were running some sort of operation, but Betty wasn't really interested in wasting more of her afternoon than the government apparently already had.

Daryl's eyes flicked to Enid and he held up a finger to indicate he needed a minute before waving the woman off to the side so they could talk more quietly among themselves without risking anyone over hearing. When they were far enough from the line, Daryl crossed his arms. His fingers folded into the armholes of his vest and his wings fluffed out a bit more.

"You a lawyer? One they called for me?" He asked, more confused than anything else. "I was told there weren't no charges being pressed. I didn't even start the fight, so if the asshole's changed his mind, he's a real son of a bitch. I was just defending myself."

Edited 2016-05-17 03:32 (UTC)

He's confused, she's confused, at least he doesn't come across as aggressive, just a very reasonable amount of defensive. Betty notices that she's mirrored his crossed arms and closed body language, or he has hers, and lets her arms fall loosely again.

"Not a lawyer, no. Housemate, if you were assigned to Number 8. Woman on the phone said you were new and might need someone to pick you up at the station. I had the afternoon, so." She shrugs. "Didn't mean to interrupt your photoshoot."

He shrugged off the apology. He didn't mind an excuse to stop the pictures for a bit. But he didn't drop his arms, either. His fingers actually curled a little tighter. The cops had called someone for him. Probably before he'd gotten his own phone call. All because he'd been in the city for all of a week.

"Yeah. Number eight," he agreed, nodding his head. Then he tilted it, eyes narrowing, "You the a-un... person that's been moving my food around?"

She didn't sound like much of an asshole. Felt bad trying to call her that outloud.

Betty misunderstood at first, still assuming Daryl had only arrived within the last day or so, and more concerned with not wigging the new housemate. The resident ghost was friendly enough; their house didn't need this sort of rep.

"Oh, no, it's been happening to everyone this week. If you look around, I'm sure your things will turn up again." She shrugged, embarrassed at being unable to give a better explanation. And the laundry? The dishes? Maybe she'd better break down the haunting one item at a time.

It really came down to erratic schedules and all the ways 'my food' could be defined. He hadn't even been in jail long enough to enter the key data points.

Edited (redundant wording) 2016-05-18 03:07 (UTC)

"Huh." That was a surprise. At least it meant it wasn't just him that was being messed with.

"I uh... I ain't been staying there," he said with a sharp intake of breath. "Got a friend who's couch I've been crashing on. I mean, I've been around. Here and there. Ain't no one else been home, but it weren't that hard to figure out what rooms were already taken. I've been staying out of 'em. But been sleeping at a friend's place."

Daryl's eyes darted away from her, towards his feet as he shifted his weight. "Didn't want to disturb no one."

"You won't be any trouble at all," she said automatically to the person who has been hiding their non-perishables in places like closets and garages all week. "And your friend," that's Enid, right, "is welcome by too. I'm sure the other two..."

And then it began to dawn on her. Been around. Here and there. A perfectly reasonable scientific explanation for everything. Betty's face was a carefully drawn picture.

"-Would be interested in meeting you, too," she finished. "Sorry - when did your food go missing?"

Daryl shrugged again, shaking his head a little as he lifted his eyes. Another breath was drawn in while his lips twisted in a frown, "A few times. I had some tucked away in the closet of the downstairs bedroom. Didn't look like no one was using it, but it all got put in the pantry. Then the garage with some water. But that got sorted back into the communal share. Tried putting it in the basement after that, but it got moved again. Put what I could in the shed the other day, but I ain't been back since then. I'm hoping whoever the asshole is that's been moving it back don't go out there."

"... Ah." That did explain, well, not everything. In fact, it prompted several questions. But it at least explained how various items wound up teleporting around the house whenever no one was around to observe it.

Betty suppressed a frown and looked (away) back toward the waiting crowd, absentmindedly crossing her arms again and tapping her fingers against her elbow. "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. You know how people here are from all different sorts of universes?"

"Yeah," he answered, his own frown returning as he tilted his head and leaned to the side, trying to keep her face in his view even as she looked behind her. His eyes darted to the crowd, several of whom caught the two of them looking and lifted their hands in waves as if to say 'yeah, we're still waiting on you, jerk'.

Daryl's gaze shifted back to her, "What's that got to do with someone moving my food?"

"Well, where I'm from we keep our food in the common areas - the communal share - all of the time. Where anyone who needs them can use them. Especially things liked canned baby corn, which we'd usually cook with other things." She spoke slowly, as though testing her words phrase by phrase.

"If you feel better keeping some in your," closet, "personal room, that's fine. We won't go in there anymore. We, ah... None of us knew you had moved in already." Until now. Conspicuously not explaining what they had thought instead.

Maybe... maybe she would try tackling the idea of grocery stores at some other point. She was finally getting the idea that Daryl came by his aesthetic honestly, and no one really liked a lot of those vegetables. She'd bought them in deference to the nutrition gods.

Daryl's expression went from confused to annoyed fast. Her talking down to him like he was some sort of stupid wasn't appreciated in the slightest. Got him all intent on judging her right up until she said no one had known he'd moved in.

Her rocked back on his heels and lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her as he processed that. His expression returned to genuine disbelief, "You're telling me the government assigned me the house, gave me the key, showed me where it was, and they didn't tell no one who was already living there to expect me?"

Just making sure he was understanding this properly.

She shrugged, just relieved to have things sorted out out here. (And maybe a little relieved to see he was just as flabbergasted; it was nice to be on even-uneven footing.) A new housemate no one ever saw going in or out had not even been included in the list of fantastical explanations.

"They told us to come pick you up from jail," she pointed out, just to be fair. Or to emphasize the absurdity. "That was the first any of us heard of a new housemate. Anyway, we'll stop taking food out of your room. Hey, were you responsible for the... for folding everyone's laundry?"

And here he was thinking the government here was just a little bit more organized than the one in his world used to be. So much for that. Same shit, just slipping through different cracks.

"Yeah," he answered simply, not embarrassed in the least for that. He'd been doing his part to help out around the shared space. "Why? I fold some of it wrong or something?"

She wasn't not a fan but they weren't doing too badly. Multi-universal teleportations were probably a logistics nightmare.

"No, no, I'd just been wondering. Mystery solved. Thank you." Myth thoroughly busted, go team.

She looked back again at the crowd. "I'll let you get back to this." The statement came out a question.

Not that Daryl wanted to, but he figured she was trying to get back to her day and he wasn't going to keep the interruption going longer than it needed to. He pressed his lips together and nodded, head tilting up and back more than down. A step was taken backwards and his wings flexed just a bit before he forced his arms to drop and he headed over to the front of the picture taking line.

Daryl was led out of the holding cells and back up to the front where his possessions were being released from the armory. He made careful count of his knives, checked his crossbow to make sure it hadn't been hurt, flicked his lighter on and off, stuffed the house key to his assigned housing into his pocket and left for the front where his pick up was waiting.

He paused just past that door and stared for a bit, then dropped his eyes, his head and huffed as he headed past them. The bruising on his face made it pretty clear he'd gotten as good as he'd given.

"Ain't even here a full week, an' you're already makin' a scene, huh?" Rick was standing there, waiting for Daryl to head on out so he could take him home. And while he sounded amused, his eyes swept up toward Daryl's face -- scoping out the bruises to see how bad the damage and whether he had to retaliate in kind.

"'least I managed to avoid bein' arrested when I was breakin' into houses." Because yeah. That was a thing Rick did when he first got here. "You good?"

"If I was breaking inta houses, I wouldn'ta been arrested," he huffed, trying to hide his embarrassment over the whole thing and doing a piss poor job. He wasn't really mad at the kid for how it turned out. He was mad at himself. He forgot that fighting the way he had, not getting off the kid when the cops first got to the scene, when they told him to, when they were yelling... that would get him arrested. He used to know that intimately. It's what kept him out of jail all his life. Until now. First time arrest.

Daryl was disappointed in himself and it was strange and unnerving because he shouldn't have cared about it anymore. Only he did. Even if it was just a holding cell for a short few hours, he'd still gone and gotten printed, mug shot. One thing he had never screwed up for himself back before, no matter how often Merle got tossed in the bin, and he does it only a week into whatever kind of life he's gonna have to make for himself.

"'M fine," he bit out, lip curling. And physically, he was. Emotionally, well, that was something he was obviously struggling with. On his back, just where Rick would be able to see it as Daryl moved past, the wings on Daryl's vest were moving. Part of them, here and there, looking very real and very feathered for a moment as they pushed outward, trying to break free. And then going back to normal in the next second.

Edited 2016-05-08 17:29 (UTC)

For a moment, Rick thought he was hallucinating upon seeing the wings. For a moment. And then he remembered the world they were in and the powers they had. Maybe it was something to do with that? It was probably something to do with that. Rick fell into step beside his companion. "The one who did this to you, the one you got in a fight with. He ain't gonna be a problem, is he?"

Rick canted his head. Already, the problems were compounding. Between Carl and Jesse and now Daryl and whoever he fought, Rick had a sinking feeling that the stability of their group was on just as shaky of ground as it was back home.

The fight itself wasn't really a problem so Daryl shook his head, "Nah. He's okay. Just a kid with a better right hook than I expected."

Daryl paused, stopped on the steps, turned his head toward Rick, though he kept it down. Voice went soft and his thumb came up to his mouth, "He just didn't take to being grabbed and brought here as well as some, is all."

Enid was just behind Rick when he starts talking to Daryl, and for the most part she was happy letting them talk without speaking, but that's until she can't help it but note a couple things.

The first thing was the wings, obviously. Rick wasn't the only one seeing them trying to fly free when Daryl's attitude shot up for a moment. And so she blinks in surprise at that, eyes on it and lips a gap. Of course she was never expecting that to happen out of no where. Surely enough, though, as the wings seem to threaten to appear from the vest, they disappear almost as quickly when the redneck calms.

As much as she'd like to point them out, a part of her wonders if she should. After all, would she sound crazy? Knowing about powers or not. Was it even relevant right this moment? Thankfully she doesn't have to think about it very long as it just seems to become irrelevant, anyway, when Daryl mentions why he was in jail in the first place. That takes more precedent, in her mind, at least.

"That's why you're here? You got in a fight with a kid?" she interjects. It's not to sound judgemental, but she was possibly, maybe, slightly (very) worried in a way after hearing he was here, so she's a little exasperated that is what it is, is all. That it's all that is. She can't believe it.

"He threw the first punch," Daryl defended, tilting his head her way and dropping his hand from his mouth as his shoulders hunched. "He's as big as Carl and knows what he's doing."

His face was evidence of that.

The wings on his back started to try and break free again. Still visible since he hand't twisted around to face her.

Carl has his arms folded during the entire visit. Naturally, stabbing Jesse and consequently yelled at by Dad for it . . .

Well. He's not in a bad mood as he used to be right after the incident. But he's not exactly happy. The wings does catch Carl's notice, but after spending over a year in this world, it doesn't hold as much attention as it might have when he first arrived?

"Where is he now? Still in jail?"

Daryl shook his head, the wings on his back still pushing up. Either because Daryl couldn't control it, or because he could and was fighting them. But they were definitely reacting in accordance with his mood.

"His ride showed up 'fore ya'll did. He's been gone about fourty-five minutes now."

And then he realized why Carl was probably asking about that and he turned his head away, shoulders hunching further as he reiterated: "He's fine. Ain't gonna be a problem."

"Okay."

And Carl leaves as it is.

But while Daryl thinks the guy is fine, Carl has his own reservations, despite never meeting the guy. Because usually Carl is cool with a lot of people too, except there are a few Carl has missed.

After all, he considered Jesse not to be a problem as well. And look where it got him.

"You hungry?"

"He better be." Rick stated in response, giving Carl a quick glance. This world was a new beginning for them, a new chance. And if Rick could avoid it, especially after seeing what was in store for them back home, he would rather evade conflicts with other groups where he could.

From the sound of things, this guy did have another group. He had a ride. He had at least one person, and there was likely to be more. "We could go get something to eat or we could pick up some meat, head to the woods in Maurtia Falls an' cook some things over the fire at my old camp."

He looked between his group for their input.

Food sounds nice and all, but Enid doesn't know what to make of Rick looking for her input too. So initially she doesn't say anything at all, letting the question hang for a moment.

But then again there is still one thing they seem to be forgetting, and she rethinks saying nothing at all and speaks up.

"Aren't we getting a head of ourselves?"

She eyes Daryl as she says that. Obviously what she's talking about is the offhand idea she came up with to get him out. All the people lined outside for the photo op? They still had to deal with that, of course. Someone had to tell Daryl, and she is pretty sure she's not the right person to do that.

Daryl was about to answer Rick when Enid spoke up. He met her gaze, confused, because she was eyeing him like he was the one forgetting and he was pretty sure he didn't know shit about whatever she was talking about.

"What?"

Carl's completely out of the loop as well, so he's useless.

"What?"

Said at the same time Daryl said it.

"What?"

Make that three! Was there an echo in here? Because it sure sounded like it. Yeah, sure. Rick noticed the people outside but they were just part of the backdrop to him -- people they could get past and go on their way.

Poor Enid, having to deal with this crew.

Really guys? Daryl she would expect not to know anything is up, but you other two she thought would have at least been paying attention. They were approaching the exit now and she frowned at their combined echoed responses.

This was something already too late to explain so she gestured up a head to the outside.

"See for yourself," she sighs.

The line up, after all, should suggest something to them, she thinks. Perhaps refresh their memories? Perhaps not. And this would just greatly confuse them? Either way, she meant it when she said she worked out his release before.

Once outside, she adds. "I worked it out by asking them if they wanted a photo op with Daryl for his bail." The last three words she says a little quieter just in case it still matters, even with their audience obviously in the know.

Daryl had pretty much come to a stop by then, having held the door for the group. He was letting it swing shut on him when Enid finally spilled what was up. Then he was shooting her a glare as he took one stride to close the distance between them. A hand shot out to grab her arm and tug her to the side, where he could put his back to the gathered crowd and talk to her without them seeing his face. It wasn't a hard grip, and he tried not to hurt her with the force of it, but he was clearly upset with this.

"You told them what?" He wasn't sure what he was more angry about: the photo-ops, or the fact that she'd told a bunch of strangers it was to make his bail.

She saw the glare as she exited the building, but didn't take it too seriously until he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side. Then she glances back at him firmly enough, after nearly tripping and catching her steps for how off guard she was just now. And she looks at him clearly wondering just what the hell.

"Let go." She demands first, pulling her arm back or trying to at least since he was still stronger than her. "I didn't say anything that wasn't already obvious." The fight Daryl had caught a few eyes, after all, that some people around for the photo op may even seem familiar as some that had seen his fight and witnessed his arrest. His actions had brought all its own attention even without her help, is what she's saying.

"You're going to blame me for trying to help?"

Daryl wasn't holding on tight and his hand fell away without any resistance when she pulled her arm out of his grip. His shoulders hunched and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, keeping his glare focused on her as he bit out his words in a harsh whisper that couldn't hide his embarrassment no matter how hard he tried.

"You didn't have to say it! I could have been in there giving a fucking statement! Plenty of reasons to go to a station after a fight that got nothing to do with being arrested!" His fists clenched and he looked away, this time leveling his glare at Rick, like his friend had betrayed him somehow. "Could have at least warned me while we were still inside."

And now Carl feels like shit for not paying attention, because god, stop fighting guys. Out of everyone in this group, Carl feels like he can handle this now he knows what Enid is trying to do. Besides, being a spokesman for an animal shelter had him learn a few tips. "Alright, that's enough. You can get through this no problem. We all will."

He glances at the crowd, seizing them up, seeing what kind of people want to get Daryl's picture. Not many of little kids, so . . .

"It's easier than it looks. Just get your picture taken. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable, and then move on."

Daryl's head whipped around to Carl and his lips pressed together hard as he sucked in a couple fast breaths through his nose to force himself to calm down enough he didn't yell at the kid. Or raise his voice when he stepped in close to him and whispered harshly, "None of that makes me comfortable!"

As if to emphasize how much he didn't like this turn of events, the wings on his back that had been slowly threatening to pop out finally ripped their way free of the leather and cloth, fanning out behind him and arching upward as if to protect him. Of course, the small crowd just saw this as Daryl being a little dramatic. Probably for their sake. Within seconds they were cheering and clapping loudly.

Daryl's shoulders just hunched further and it was all he could do to keep himself from looking like a deer in the headlights to the people he actually knew. And even that he was pretty sure he failed on out of sheer surprise at the sudden awareness he had of an entirely new set of limbs. Turning around and facing the strangers was not an option he wanted to explore right then and there.

And Carl doesn't blame him. When his boss first wanted him to do PR work, he just wanted to hide. He was stiff and monotone and unhappy when he did his first gigs. But it gets easier. Easier to just disconnect from everyone and just say what he needed to say, whenever he felt comfortable in saying it.

Daryl is stuck in this world and he might as well get used to the natives getting excited over him. Even if the wings pop out of nowhere. However, he didn't budge at all when Daryl got into his personal space, angry and humiliated.

"Then don't smile. Flip off at the camera. Act like an asshole. If you think this was bad, you are going to have a harder time with the paparazzi who will be stalking you every now and then. At least these people are putting their distance and not shoving up cameras in your face first thing."

The way Carl is talking is not unlike how Carl tried to teach Father Gabriel how to defend himself, while the man was trying to pick at the blood off the floor of the church that was his home. He's talking not like it's a gig, but something someone must endure in order to survive. And Carl spent many months alone here. He did what he could to get whatever money he can in order to build himself a better life. That meant being Registered. It meant being part of short-time gigs of being a model for this product or that product. It meant photo ops.

A small look of surprise and hesitantly one of thanks goes to Carl for speaking up and helping her. But that only gives her the briefest moments where she feels she can breathe because she can't fully relax seeing him switch focus to Carl. His problem was with her, after all, and she didn't know Daryl well enough to know that he won't start blaming Carl for her doing.

So, eventually her eyes turn from to Carl back to Daryl. She spoke again to bring his attention back over to her. "Look, I didn't think there was any other way... but if you don't want to, we-- I'll figure something out."

At this point, swallowing her own pride and doing the photo ops herself might be easier to fix things here. All of it. She's not sure.

He'd already encountered the people shoving cameras in his face thing from his brief meeting with Lucifer. And that had thrown him for a loop, too.

But Enid's admission that she didn't think there was any other way helped, oddly enough. At least it wasn't an intentional thing to make fun of him. He still wasn't comfortable with it, but she'd been trying to make things easier on all of them.

Daryl tossed a look her way before settling his eyes on Carl again and muttering, "Not right here. Not on the steps."

It was as close as he was going to get to saying 'fine, I'll do it' out loud.

They let me call one person on the phone [Closed]

Betty Ross - Ships Passing in the Night and All That Shit

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hope this works? since it's just a quick tag.

yeah sure, that works for me!

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Team Family - Jailhouse Rock

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IDK if other people are jumping in, but I'm going again until they do!

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/so appears 1 wild other person

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