brian "rudy is the worst pseudonym ever" moser ✂ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodplay) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2013-01-31 09:56 pm
bloodplay) wrote in capeandcowllogs2013-01-31 09:56 pm
Entry tags:
those who feel me near
WHO: nerd alert (egohalfempty) and douuuuche chilllll (bloodplay)
WHERE: MANBABYHATTAN
WHEN: SOME POINT IN THE 20S OF JANUARY
WARNINGS: you know how i typically spam introspective bullshit about every character i play when i write their tags? yeah his introspective bullshit is probably going to have lots of murder in it.
SUMMARY: Cyd Sherman meets a helpful new friend with nothing but the purest of intentions!
FORMAT: i'm so lazy help me god are you there it's me, margaret
[Two weeks after showing up, well after the encounter with Dexter at the Pie Hole, he caves and slinks back to the Porter building for a second communicator. This is, in general, a mixed bag. On the one hand, he emerges 20 minutes later holding a fresh new smartphone-lookin' piece of plastic, completely unconnected to Rudy Cooper in any way, shape, or form, gratifyingly anonymous, and ready to be used at the next opportune moment. On the other, Lachesis doesn't take kindly to people attempting to lift communicators in complete silence, which means he's just listened to 15 minutes of paralyzingly loud elevator music and it's registered to "Vanilla Ice." You win some, you lose some.
At any rate, he's walking back in the general direction of the MAC, comm in hand, mind occupied by thoughts and budding plans which should definitely not be transcribed fully, and as a consequence he's moving largely on autopilot! Not enough to straight-up walk into someone Three Stooges style, but certainly enough to knock into someone and upset their center of balance, or his, which is admittedly not a great idea even in a fake, underpopulated New York City.]
egohalfempty) and douuuuche chilllll (bloodplay)WHERE: MANBABYHATTAN
WHEN: SOME POINT IN THE 20S OF JANUARY
WARNINGS: you know how i typically spam introspective bullshit about every character i play when i write their tags? yeah his introspective bullshit is probably going to have lots of murder in it.
SUMMARY: Cyd Sherman meets a helpful new friend with nothing but the purest of intentions!
FORMAT: i'm so lazy help me god are you there it's me, margaret
[Two weeks after showing up, well after the encounter with Dexter at the Pie Hole, he caves and slinks back to the Porter building for a second communicator. This is, in general, a mixed bag. On the one hand, he emerges 20 minutes later holding a fresh new smartphone-lookin' piece of plastic, completely unconnected to Rudy Cooper in any way, shape, or form, gratifyingly anonymous, and ready to be used at the next opportune moment. On the other, Lachesis doesn't take kindly to people attempting to lift communicators in complete silence, which means he's just listened to 15 minutes of paralyzingly loud elevator music and it's registered to "Vanilla Ice." You win some, you lose some.
At any rate, he's walking back in the general direction of the MAC, comm in hand, mind occupied by thoughts and budding plans which should definitely not be transcribed fully, and as a consequence he's moving largely on autopilot! Not enough to straight-up walk into someone Three Stooges style, but certainly enough to knock into someone and upset their center of balance, or his, which is admittedly not a great idea even in a fake, underpopulated New York City.]
no subject
Shudder.
No, seriously, the thought was making her physically shudder even as she slowly stepped out of her apartment. It was an intimidating idea, overwhelming really – so distracting that didn't even notice the stranger coming her way until they were mid-crash, painfully stumbling their way towards the ground.
See, this was why she hated going outside! ]
no subject
[AND THEN THEY COLLAPSED ON THE PAVEMENT LIKE TOOLS, WHICH THEY WERE, BUT MOSTLY THIS GUY, POOR SWEEET CYD COULD NEVER COMPARE TO THAT SHINING CITADEL ON A HILL OF TOOLERY. At some point during the process of falling on his ass like a moron Brian's communicator slips out of his hand, hitting the sidewalk with a sharp bumping noise. His arm shoots out to retrieve it before he makes a single move to get back on his feet; it's only a matter of seconds before it's back in his grasp, none the worse for wear, but that particular cat is clearly out of the bag. Thankfully, while we're extending this metaphor, he's got about thirty more where that came from; you could say there's something of a feline surplus on his hands.
Comm secured, he mutters something underneath his breath that sounds like "hggghngh", going from sprawled on the ground to crouching to very nearly standing up with apparent finesse, and then looks at Cyd. There's a long, slightly mortified exhale.]
Jesus, I'm sorry. [He genuinely looks it!] Wasn't thinking -- obviously.
[Knees still bent, he offers a hand to help her up, and if he weren't a fucking muppet this would be the point in the narrative where shoujo sparkles surrounded his face and the music swelled dramatically.]
You going to be okay?
SORRY THIS TOOK A CENTURY TO WRITE
[ Whoa. From the way she just stares at him for what feels like forever (but is really just a few awkward moments) you would think shoujo sparkles really were surrounding his magnificient muppetly face. Yyyyyeah, no, but there is definitely a blush creeping up on her pale, vampire-like cheeks. ]
I- I mean, thank you. I'm fine. I'm great! Actually, my dignity kind of hurts and also my butt, but... it's no big deal. Really! [ This sure seems like a good time to have an awkward gigglefit. So she's going to do that. ]
Anyway, uh. Are you okay? The sidewalk isn't exactly soft, and—
Hold on. Is that a communicator?
no subject
Which this woman's almost certainly is; even without his peripheral awareness of her sudden vasodilation, it would be obvious. It's not hard to divine what's probably going on behind all that fluster, and he marks it down on his mental ledger with the customary dispassion, ignoring the background noise. This too is a constant presence, a hissing in the back of his mind that reminds him ever more urgently of exactly how long it's been since the last one, and at the moment it's helpfully pointing out how easy it might be, getting her to go off with him -- but this is really not the time.
Especially not after what comes out of her mouth next. He's opening his own to say something generic and reassuringly irreverent, and it hangs open for a moment before he catches himself. This too is a deliberate move, but when you're so good at it who's keeping track, really?]
That's, ah -- yes. Yes it is. [He hovers somewhere between sheepish and apprehensive, which only makes sense; after all, he has no idea if she's an Import or not, and as a newbie he should be uncertain about how native civilians might react. His hand, though still outstretched, fumbles back ever so slightly.] So that... [SHRUGGAN] ... probably depends on how you define okay. Trust me, I've had worse.
[HOLD ON A SECOND THERE]
Wait -- how'd you know what it's called? Are you...?
no subject
Almost.
Her brain was busy going to war with itself: the logical side was reminding Cyd that the last time she'd found herself living life like it was a bodice-ripper, it was a disaster. Gently pointing out that she knew nothing about this gentleman and so she really shouldn't get her hopes up, and besides, his face kind of had a felt-like quality to it if you stared long enough.
Which she was. Staring, that is, between more incoherent babbling: ] Y- yeah! You caught me. I'm not sure what I am, exactly, definitely not a hero but– I don't even know what I can do yet, I've got some theories, but— I'm saying "but" a lot, huh? Sorry! I'm not really good with... explanations. Or introductions.
[ Now, the emotional side of her brain said, would be a good time to run away and cry and bury her social awkward sorrows in ice cream. But for some odd reason, she found herself doing something strange: taking a deep breath, smiling, and... successfully pretending to be confident??? ] You know what? Let me try that again. I'm Cyd. Cyd Sherman.
[ She held out a hand. ] Nice to meet you, um...
no subject
In reality, of course, all that‘s passing through his mind is about time, but that‘s not a particularly gentlemanly thought.]
--Rudy. Rudy Cooper.
[He actually does mirror her smile at this point, warm and apparently 100% genuine, and reaches out to take her hand in a gesture as much introductory as it is practical.]
Hey -- sometimes we all need a testdrive. Looks like you've got the hang of it to me. [REFERRING TO THE BAD AT INTRODUCTIONS PART OBVS. He's kind of amused, maybe, but definitely not mocking.] It's a pleasure, Cyd.
no subject
What? Sorry, I– it's a pleasure to meet you, too, Rudy. That is... what I meant to say. Yes.
[ And it's with a nervous smile that she takes that felt-like, murderous hand and maybe even "forgets" to let go and let her touch linger for a minute but no way is she doing it on purpose oh my gosh HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND who would ever think such a thing
i mean. she's not that smooth. it's an accident. really.
mostly. ]
And thanks. For the hand. Well, not really, I assume you're intending to keeping it and... that came out way more creepy than I intended...
no subject
[The amusement is a lot easier to manufacture this time, though to all appearances he achieves the same end product; his eyes on her face, apparently full of nonjudgmental curiosity, and a grin which he cuts short, because even with its knife-edge dulled you never really know. Especially not now, when he can actually feel the dark, cacchinating rush of laughter rear up within him at her phrasing. Cyd, my sweet summer child, you have no idea.]
So... how long has it been? [A brief self-deprecating eyebrow raise.] For you, I mean, since you showed up. Sounds like I'm asking about doing time.