(no subject)

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

WHO: Jonathan Crane ( phobiaasphyxia ) and Ruka ( gallitrap )
WHERE: Random Bus-stop number 4
WHEN: Around five-pm, May 25th
WARNINGS: Mind fucking of the highest order
SUMMARY: Ruka just wants to go home. Jonathan has other plans.
FORMAT: Quicklog or paragraph.

[ We have a Crane dressed in civilian clothing -- nice workshirt, tie, pants, etc -- and he's waiting for the bus. How much harm could he do? ]

Comments

[dragony]

[ And now, confusion. ]

Huh? I don't know... they would be your reasons, sir.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

Enlighten me.

[dragony]

I don't understand what you're asking.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ His eye offers the barest of twitches ]

I'm asking if you think it strange that I only possess two friends?

[dragony]

[ She shakes her head. ]

No, that's not strange.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

Hm.

[ He shakes his head. ]

What time is it?

[dragony]

Uh...

[ She doesn't have a watch, so Ruka pulls out her communicator to check the time. Anyone who didn't have one of these would likely assume it was a normal cell phone, if a little on the bulky side. ]

Almost five-thirty.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ He hmmms gently, and fishes out a pocket watch from the inside of his coat ]

[dragony]

[ And no new messages, either. Well, at least she wasn't getting yelled at for being a little late. Back into the pocket the communicator went. ]

And here we GO.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

What was the time, again?

Dun dun dun!

[dragony]

About five-thirty.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ He flips open the pocketwatch, and winds it almost experimentally. ]

Hm.

[dragony]

[ At the unexpected noise, Ruka turns her attention to the stranger. Oh, hey, a pocket watch. She remembers the last time she'd seen one of those — she'd still been testing her powers then, with a man who had been completely invisible. ]

[ Surely, Ruka thought, if this were that same man, she would have recognized his voice by now? But it was possible... ]

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ Ignoring her, Crane holds up the pocket watch to the light, and then re-examines it rather closely. He frowns, afterward. ]

I can't seem to get this to be on time.

[dragony]

[ Well, if it was the same person, he already would have known who Ruka was. Satisfied that she hadn't accidentally met a friend without recognizing them, she turns her attention back to the road. ]

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ He SHAKES the watch, and it rattles rather heinously. ]

Hm.


[ He clears his throat. ]

Um, excuse me, Miss...?

[dragony]

[ She turns. ]

Yes?

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

Could you be a dear and look at this watch for a moment? I'm not sure if it's broken or not.

[dragony]

I don't think I'd be able to help. I don't know anything about that kind of watch.

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ He unraveled it, letting it hang in the air between them, just out of her reach. ]

I only need to know if you can hear it tick. Nothing more.

[dragony]

[ What kind of question was that? If his watch was ticking, he'd be able to hear it on his own, wouldn't he? What a strange man. He reminded her a little of the Duel Professor. Perhaps she should have taken that as a greater warning. ]

No, I don't—

[ No. There, very faintly. There was something very quiet on the edge of her hearing. It was instinct to listen closer for the source of that soft ticking. ]

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ do you like not being able to move any part of your body? Because you can't. You really can't anymore. And Crane's suddenly disappeared from sight. ]

[dragony]

[ No, no, that's a definite no. The hands in her pockets — as close as they are to her communicator, and her taser — are useless. Her heart, beyond her control, beats faster in her chest. ]

[phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com]

[ off in the distance, there are sounds! They seem violent. ]

U-unhand me you degenerate!

[dragony]

[ Sounds! She can't turn to look — is she too scared? What's going on? Things are different and frightening and this isn't how things are supposed to go, what's supposed to happen. She tries to tighten her fingers on the communicator to hit emergency broadcast (but wait she disabled that function because of all the accidental posts clogging the network, it wouldn't work if she tried), but they wouldn't respond. She can't even tell if she recognizes the voice. ]

[ Oh, and there was the familiar burn of her birthmark, lighting up through her sleeve, a jagged red beacon through layers of clothing — but no pressing of a shield because there was nothing to defend against. ]