maced_eggs | Post-It: ETD 00:14am [Video]

Post-It: ETD 00:14am [Video]

[Down on level 4, Mason seems to have been in the process of cleaning up his horrible, horrible room. You can see the floor now! Where he sits, crosslegged, an infant brown bunny in his lap. He's feeding it lettuce, fond and preening.

On the door is tacked the sign Yard Sale.]

So I figure there are two things I need to do.

I am thinking that if I give away all of my things that Gwenny says I can't have any longer, I can earn my bloody stickers, get my powers back, an' give a home for Johnny Ramone.

So let's see what we've got...

[Mason pans his camera to the collection of booze, bongs, prescription pills, and general illicit or controlled substances he's managed to collect over his months on the Barge]

Seeing as how there is lit'rally no money on this boat, I will accept payment in the form of either rabbit things or stickers.

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You know you're actually adding a syllable to my name when you call me that? Doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose of a nickname if it takes longer to say than the original?

[Dash peers skeptically at the pile of goodies, before carefully picking out a single white pill bottle and holding it up to Mason]

What do these do?

S'not a nickname. It's what I call you.

[Mason squints at it, before brightening]

Painkillers. Knocks you right out.

Why?

[it's not like they know each other, why call him anything other than Dash? He pulls a face at the explanation of the painkillers, and lowers the hand holding the bottle, as if he's going to put it down.]

How about that?

[with his free hand, Dash points at some weird looking piece if smoking paraphernalia on the far side of the pile.. When Mason looks, he'll slip the pills in his pocket and pick something else up at random, to be examining when Mason looks back.]

Dunno. You look a bit like a Dashie. Dashing fellow.

[Mason looks over his shoulder to eye the thing being pointed at, and completely misses the pickpocketing going on]

Oh, that. Picked that up from a dead man, about your age, or older. Got to go through his apartment with him when he died after drinking paint thinner on accident.

Dashing. Right.

[Dash is slowly cementing his opinion of Mason as a man with something quietly wrong with him. He hefts the new thing he's picked up - an unlabelled glass bottle sloshing with a colourless liquid - and if Mason cares to look, he'll see a thick black line tattooed across the back of Dash's hand.]

How about this? Its not the same guy's paint thinner, is it?

[Dash isn't wrong; just look at the way Mason died for evidence of that. The reaper glances up, giving a bit of a grin]

Absinthe. From a college student who leapt off a building trying to do a...whassit called? A parkour.

Here, what's that on your hand?

[Dash frowns, un-corks the bottle and takes a sniff, then immediately recoils, scrunching up his face and holding the bottle back out to Mason.]

Ugh-- Pass. Why would anyone drink that crap.

[It smells like aniseed and death. Not even worth trying to steal.]

That's got to be the strongest thing you have, right?

[still wiping his nose, still... sort of looking for something better to pinch.]

[Mason climbs to his feet, cradling his bunny. He nears Dash, frowning down at him]

Whiskey's already claimed.

Here; show us your hand. You've got a tattoo? I'd like to see.

[Dash edges back an inch or two as Mason gets up, but he does hold out the hand, then the other as well. There's a matching tattoo on the other one, a plus sign to go with the dash.

He's not actually certain what to say about the marks, so for the moment he says nothing.]

[Mason takes Dash's hand gently, looking it over. He gives a bit of a confused grin, after a minute]

...HIV positive? Negative?

You've got me confused, Dashie.

[Dash almost snaps that the marks have nothing to do with HIV, but stops himself as he realizes that he doesn't actually know that for certain. He probably doesn't have HIV though. That seems a little serious for a kids TV show.

In the end, he just shrugs.]

Not everything means something. It's just visuals, right? Some dumb thing someone wrote in because they thought it'd look good on TV. Same as the grey hair. It doesn't mean anything.

[He digs a hand into the coat pocket that doesn't contain stolen pills, and withdraws a plastic shopping bag containing what was once a crumbling floorboard in the abandon mill he's squatting in.]

What'll you give me for some woodchips? Y'know, For him to do his business on.

Edited 2014-09-22 00:57 (UTC)

[At the notion of grey hair, Mason lets go of Dash's hand and ruffles his hair playfully]

That is a bit strange, come to think of it. But you can always dye it, you know?

Is that what they really do their business on? Rabbits?

[Dash wipes his hand on his trouser leg, then pats his hair back down when Mason is done ruffling it, then answers.]

Yeah, that's always an option, I guess.

[Just probably not one that he's going to take advantage of.]

And yeah. It's not like they can use the bathroom.

Edited 2014-09-22 01:14 (UTC)

[Mason idly strokes one of Johnny's cheeks with a finger, telling him seriously]

You can't, can you? You'd fall in.

Right. What do you want for 'em? Anything but the whiskey.

[Aw. That's really cute. Dash isn't sure how to process the emotion that is a visceral reaction to cuteness, so he's forced to fight through it and continue to be greedy.]

Do you have any other pills?

Might have a bit of vicodin left. An' some sleeping pills. Check the dresser behind you.

[Vicodin sounds good. Dash turns and pulls open the dresser, first peering in, then sticking his hand in to search around for anything he wants. This is weird. It's a bit like being allowed to steal from someone.

Eventually, he comes up with another bottle of pills, and holds it up to study the label.]

I guess this is it. How much of this do you have to take for it to work?

[Or how much do you have to sneak into someone's food without them noticing for it to knock them out?]

I've no fuckin' idea.

Really, I don't. Reapers have a built-up high tolerance for it. We don't react like normal, living humans any longer.

My suggestion's to start with one an' go from there.

Right.

[And the Vicodin gets pocketed, along with the sleeping pills from earlier. He'll figure something out.]

Well. Nice doing business with you.

[Mason stretches his hand out for the woodchips]

Johnny says thanks, mate.

[Dash would be tempted not to pay at all, but really, what's he going to do with a bag of tiny pieces of wood. He hands them over.]

Yeah, sure. Tell him he's welcome.

[And with that important business done, he's going to begin drifting back off into the corridors, and back to the important job of scrounging. ]

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Post-It: ETD 00:14am [Video]

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