:E

[fuckrobertfrost.livejournal.com]

Who: OPEN
What: an evening outing
Where: around Brock Marsh, possibly a little further abroad if desired - any setting is fine
When: the evening of his arrival
Notes: this will take place after he meets Kate, naturally, but that thread isn't finished yet so if something comes up, I will edit it in and note that!
Warnings: none


It's comforting to be ignored, as the people of Mog Hill are more or less used to newcomers staring at everything. Still, he doesn't like to play tourist, so John steals looks rather than gaze outright, keeping his head down and radiating a certain irritable unsociability. As he trudges along, glancing here and there, he probably looks a little disreputable — it's the whole slightly unshaven, more than slightly sullen thing. And maybe the furious chain smoking. Which is not really calming him, since he only has the one pack and it's running low already. With that in mind, he eyes what looks like a convenience store and then enters to peruse the cigarette options.

He's traveled quite widely for someone his age, so not seeing any familiar brands doesn't throw him, but it is still a little weird. Scowling at the rack, he hunches his shoulders and tries to collect himself. He needs a job. He needs to get the fuck out of that inn, and get familiar with the city.

He needs to go home, but if this shit happens often enough to have a fucking pamphlet for it, that's probably not happening. God knows he's not exactly indispensable to the Brotherhood, anyway. No one contacted him and that doesn't mean they're not here but it means he's on his own, which he hasn't been for a long time. Purposeless, too. Maybe he should go back to school, however the fuck that works here. He can't really imagine that.

Selecting a brand at random, he then lingers over the available selection of newspapers. Some of them remind him of tabloids, except they're not sensationalist — instead of LIZARDMAN EMERGES FROM FLORIDA SWAMP, EATS PET CAT, it's like LIZARDMAN OFFERING SUBSTANTIAL REWARD FOR RETURN OF LOST CAT. There's a thought. He could go cat hunting.

Comments

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

Hellsing is well-known enough in Baedal that when Lyla comes in, wearing her admittedly quite bastardized (http://www.polyvore.com/never_knew_id_know_much/set?id=28804845) version of the staff uniform, she attracts some glances. Which receive a flat stare and little else, because she's nicfitting like a fiend, and is fidgety while she waits at the counter for her preferred Baedal brand.

Once she receives them and pays, she immediately rips off her badge, in order to not misrepresent Hellsing during the course of her cigarette acquisition, and puts it in her jacket pocket. When she swings past John, she pauses, observing the newspaper selection near him.

"Those papers are two degrees above fucking useless, aren't they," is her incredibly eloquent (and drawling--her accent has not faded during all of this dimensional traveling) input.

[fuckrobertfrost.livejournal.com]

"Well," John says dryly, looking up from the papers at Lyla, "there's a novelty factor, but I was hoping for something less..." Grimace. "... human interest. Or lizardman interest, for that matter. Which one is the least useless, you think?"

There's something about her poise that reminds him of the Frost girls, but he doesn't feel uncomfortable the way he does around them. Which isn't to say she's not a telepath, but how would he know? Not that there's anything wrong with that, he thinks loudly, just in case. Even if she were, though, she doesn't seem (based upon this five seconds of interaction) to share any other traits with them. Well, nobody's really like them. And if he keeps comparing every girl he meets to them that's going to get old.

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

"The ones with the zombie headlines are pretty relevant," she says, after a contemplative once-over of the papers assembled. She plants one hand on her hip, smiling a little in a vague, semi-friendly way; Lyla is friendly by nature, even if she's more irascible than usual due to a dire shortage of carcinogens in her lungs.

"Catching up on recent events? 'Cause ours ain't nothing like anywhere else, which is really saying something."

She acquires one cigarette and lights it. In the store. This will end well when the employee working notices.