» i must give the impression that i have the answers for everything

[thenormalsquint]

Who: Angela and Bruce
What: The tables are turned on the billionaire playboy. Or something like that.
Where: Some cheap diner in Howl Barrow
When: Misdi evening
Warnings: None

Hunkered down in a back booth is Angela, sipping on a tall glass of ice water. Sure, she has a sweet tooth and would rather drink iced tea, but even though they said what she ordered earlier was iced tea, it really tasted like some funky bush water with a squirt of lemon. Deciding to play it safe for now, Angela peruses the menu, looking for anything familiar to order whenever Bruce shows up. If she's lucky and her prayers are answered, maybe he'll be carrying a bottle of hot sauce she can steal and cover whatever she orders. Which is what she usually does anyway, regardless of where she eats.

Comments

[thenormalsquint]

Angela shrugs, expression neutral. "It happens. A little too often for my liking, but what can I do?" Well, what can she do that's any different from how she's been keeping herself occupied since arriving here? Not much, really. As much as Angela loves and lives for art, her projects are at the whims of the muses and inspiration and those aren't always around all day everyday.

"The City." She waves a hand seemingly at random. "It was a place like this, though with a lot more humans and more technologically advanced. Less fog too." But all of that was in exchange for other emotionally draining events and experiences that Angela's not ready to deal with again anytime soon. "Three years there, didn't get to go home between there and here."

Her voice is somewhat subdued, lower and laced with homesickness.

[caballero]

"Jeez." He sounds sympathetic, in a different way - a little concernrd, like anyone might be. (Bruce has been to different trap cities. Tom has not. It isn't anyone's business.) He wonders, distantly, if Angela's uncertainty tonight has to do with finally feeling the dregs of how exhausting being out of control of your own existence can be.

"What did you do for work in the City?" They're at the train platform by now, and Bruce runs potential 'typical Earth food' places he's noticed through his head.

[thenormalsquint]

It's not just tonight. Angela's been carrying this overstuffed backpack of uncertainty for the last year and a half and until she manages to get home and stay there, it'll be strapped to her back. Nothing ever is stable enough for her to give serious thought to permanency, except the thought of her never being able to go home again. That, to her, seems like the start of a lost cause.

"When I first got there, I did IT for the local hospital. Then I picked up a second job doing consulting for the Police Force. After I quit there, I still worked at the hospital and taught art for a while, but that kind of dried up and I stayed at the hospital because that what paid the rent," Angela muses, shoving her hands into her pockets, looking as bored as she can be with that list of attempts at living like a normal person. And oh how she was bored. Even more bored than she is here. It's a different kind of boredom than just having nothing to do; she's wholly unfulfilled, unhappy on the inside, and restless with no control in her life. It's what beat out her eternal positivity in the end and the likelihood of it coming back the longer she stays away from her family and friends is slimming.

[caballero]

"You should try talking to the local sheriffs," he suggests, placid. It's different than the the Militia - the district enforcement, rural nearly, scurrying around keeping the peace and helping people get on, versus the iron fist of the capitol that people seem to be made uncomfortable by. "It's not like digital imaging is big here, sketch artists are probably in pretty high demand."

He stops himself there, like it's a conversation and not a cry for help - Bruce has a problem with... well, fixing problems, if people but a puzzle or something out of order in front of him he's going to try and solve it.

[thenormalsquint]

"I could, but I don't want to deal with death and crime if I don't have to," Angela admits sheepishly. The job that has now turned into a longtime career is less straining on her mentally, but the nightmares and the nausea and the emotional fatigue from seeing a side of humanity no one should still remain. "I want to see if my art takes me anywhere before I go for that last option."

His advice, though unrequested, is appreciated. Angela's quite the same; don't give her something she can't fix herself or give advice on how to fix. Otherwise, it's a great way to make her feel useless for the moment. Now on the train, she turns both physically and the conversation towards him. Angela, being herself, reaches out and taps his temple lightly. "So I take it you found something to do here with those engineer brains of yours?