multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: Pickman and Herbert West. Then Njoki too, once they get back her and Pick's place.
What: Pickman is meeting up with his old pal Herbie, and having the 'guess what I've been up to since college?' conversation.
Where: Valhalla Inn, then out and about, Mafaton-ward.
When: Today, mid-afternoon.
Warnings: Descriptions of Pickman's physical state. Probably, discussion of grave-robbing, cannibalism, and attempts to resurrect the dead.

He was nervous.

Funny, wasn't it? He'd chosen this life. This transformation. Leapt headlong into the abyss, and never regretted it for a minute. But now there was someone in Baedal who had known him only as a human being (albeit a strange one) and he was nervous about having the conversation with him, about what he was, what he'd done to himself and what he did. Herbert was an old friend -- not the closest, not even in his strange little 'inner circle,' but a friend nonetheless, someone he'd had long conversations with and who'd helped him out with more than one science class.

He had a while to think about it on his way to the Valhalla, trying to work out how to phrase his explanation, how to defend his choices. Trying to come to grips with the idea that this could be the last time he'd talk with Herbert. Because as soon as he stepped into the Inn on his little goat feet, and as soon as the other man laid eyes on him, it would be glaringly obvious he wasn't entirely human anymore.

By the time he was at the door, though, he was determined. He knew what to do, what to say. And he didn't hesitate as he stepped inside, scanning the room for a man he recognised from a lifetime ago.

Threaded | Flat

Herbert isn't nervous. He has a lot more to think about, right now, than whether or not someone he knew from college is going to be difficult to deal with. He doesn't anticipate that he will. Pickman was his friend, after all. Wasn't he? Probably. He liked his company. West just never made any effort to keep in touch.

By the time Pickman shows up at the inn, West is downstairs, like he said he'd be. He looks rather like he did in college, a little older, but that's difficult to tell. He's shed his lab coat, has a laptop bag over one shoulder, and is either reading the pamphlet again, or has found other exciting propaganda to go over while he waits.

He lowers the unfolded paper to look at Pickman, and as can be expected, his gaze goes right to the hooves, and how the man is walking, which is more interesting than the hooves, which alone could be some elaborate costume element. Anatomy and gait are more telling. How is one even supposed to react to that?

"Richard, hello." First establish familiarity, then dive right into the matter at hand. "I'll wait for your explanation."