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Heather Mason ([info]tufui_egoeris) wrote in [info]vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-03-30 08:56:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:!complete, cheryl mason, day 02, location: theatre, silent bob

Day Two - Midday to Early Afternoon
Who: Cheryl Mason & Silent Bob
What: Exploring/Map Making
When: Midday of Day 2
Where: Somewhere in the vicinity of the theater
Rating: TBD (currently let's say around PG-13 for language?)
Status: Complete







It had started as busy work - something to keep her moving so that she didn't have time to think, didn't have time to remember. Movement seemed to be as good a salve as Cheryl was going to find for her particular itch and she fully intended to keep moving until she was absolutely forced to stop. It came to her in the seemingly endless stretch of hours between early morning and gray dawn that movement without purpose was a waste and so she came to the abrupt decision to do something that seemed worthwhile - since this place hadn't been kind enough to furnish one, Cheryl decided that she'd make an effort to begin to sketch a map of the basic area.

Cheryl started once a dim sort of dawn had broken and given her a sense of the basic directions. Since then, she walked north far enough to map the location of a church with a small cemetery behind and useless forest beyond. After that, she had come south again to the library where she had started - and the two buildings beyond which had proven to be a post office and a thrift store. Now that the rain had started to fall in earnest, she lingered under the dilapidated marquee of what appeared to have once been a theater. Sitting cross-legged on the shattered and frequently missing tiles of the entryway, she held a thick volume across her lap. Said volume had come from the library but, since it held no useful information and had frequent blank pages due to the illustrations, she had decided to use it to house her beginning sketches - at least until her map as decent enough to sketch into her journal. She would just wait out the rain and, as soon as it let up enough, she'd start walking again. God knew if she would be able to map out the entire area - or if the area would stay the same long enough for her to do so - but she intended to try, at least.

She had to do something to try to stay sane, after all.



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[info]silent_bob
2009-03-30 09:55 pm UTC (link)
The day was going slowly. So fucking slowly. Fucking fucking fucking slowly.

He didn't even have a watch to know what time it was so Bob had resorted to pretending that shadows off of trees were easily interpreted and he knew that it was precisely 9:53 AM. He should be standing at the Quick Stop right now. He should have been able to sell off four fucking dime bags. He should be fucking telling Jay that his shit smells worse than a fucking camel. However, he could do none of the above.

Currently, Bob was practicing his lean against the front of the Post Office. He liked the idea of loitering there. Like maybe he'd get his mail sooner or something. Well, if mail actually came to this fucking place.

As the rain came down and he saw some chick take up spot at the Theater he just sort of watched her for a little while, not quite sure what to make of her.

So, he'd wait until she notice him and then wave politely.

Duh.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-03-30 10:51 pm UTC (link)
It didn't take long for Cheryl to glance up from her sketching and a quick look across the way informed her of the new addition of a strange man lounging in front of what seemed to be the post office. An eyebrow raised at the strangeness of someone loitering like that in the rain but Cheryl could see nothing else obviously odd or ominous about the guy -- he had only one head, he wasn't see through or covered in blood, and he seemed to be overall quite content with things so there was no great reason for her to go into flee and hide mode.

Finding herself more curious than anything else, Cheryl held the heavy book against her chest and walked forward to the very end of the overhang which was currently protecting her from getting any wetter. The thought of walking across to the stranger did occur to her, but she soon decided that she'd just call across first - so long as she could be heard over the weather.

"I think you just missed last pick up. You're not gonna wait in the rain until the next one, are you?"

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[info]silent_bob
2009-03-31 07:45 pm UTC (link)
Bob perked and then shrugged. She was cute. Cute and kind of funny.

Both sneaker clad feet settled on the ground and he pushed off the wall and started walking across the street. He moved kind of slowly, the rain not meaning all that much to him. It wasn't like he'd ever fucking dried of any way.

"Bob," he said with a grin and a wave.

Shoving his hands in his pockets he reflexively tried to find his cigs and lighter. There were rumors that some of the stores had them now; but, he hadn't made it to the not Quick Stop yet. With nothing to do it was hard to find the motivation to move quickly.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-03-31 08:53 pm UTC (link)
As she watched the guy cross the street, Cheryl found herself thinking briefly of Douglas - but the connection and its accompanying pang were quickly shoved aside. It was a silly connection to make, anyway, and likely only had to do with the shuffling gait and long coat.

"Cheryl," she answered the introduction in kind. One hand lifted in a slight wave and she did offer him a slight grin as she settled to a comfortable lean against the very empty side of what had likely once been the box office. "You're not much for conversation, huh?"

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-01 07:42 pm UTC (link)
Bob tried to find a comfortable spot up against the theater's facade for himself seeing that she had already chosen a spot. It would be nice to loiter with someone else for the first time in the past day or so. He liked Piper and all; but, she didn't strike him as the sort to loiter. She was all.. active.

Offering a grin to her name followed by a rockin' nod; Bob only offered a shrug to her mention of his not being much for conversation. Fuck, they didn't call him silent Bob for nothing.

Making a motion of bring a cigarette to his lips Bob silently pleaded, please have a fucking cigarette.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-01 10:23 pm UTC (link)
The continuing silence from the other half of the conversation caused Cheryl first to grin and then to laugh outright. Of course, she wasn't laughing at Bob - not really, anyway. More, it just struck her as pretty amusing that the first fairly relaxed person she ran into in this fucked up place was also one who could be accused of taking a vow of silence. Then again, so long as he didn't start spouting off about cults and god...

Cheryl cocked an eyebrow at the ingenious bit of miming - she recognized the request for a cigarette from her own years of being addicted to nicotine, but she had quit a few months earlier on the request of her father. The thought of him brought a sharp pang and she had to fight against a rising wince - but she just ended up turning it into a slight shrug.

"Sorry, can't help you," she replied with a shake of her head. "I quit a few months ago, but I think there's a drug store or something not too far from here. We can check that, if you're getting desperate."

And god but did Cheryl think that she could use a cigarette herself, health concerns be damned.

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-02 07:15 pm UTC (link)
Bob smiled a bit as the chick started to smile and then laugh. It didn't seem malicious so he assumed she was probably laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation and probably not at him outright. Eternal optimist that Bob.

When she said she quit Bob couldn't help but give her a look that sort of meshed 'what the fuck' with 'eh?' as he shrugged. He understood why so many people gave up smoking. A reformed former user of wacky-tobaccky, Bob knew that addiction for some was an easy thing to kick. Bob figured that while it was his duty to remain a faithful friend of Bill W., cigarettes were the least of his problems.

Looking left and right Bob didn't have a fucking clue where the drug store was. Gesturing, pointing left and right with a quizzical look in his eye it was all he could do to say get me to the fucking nicotine, please.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-02 09:48 pm UTC (link)
"Yea, I know," Cheryl responded to the 'what the fuck' look with a faint grin and a slight shrug of her shoulders. Before all of this, she really hadn't found herself missing the nicotine all that much, but all of this bullshit just made for one massive craving. "I'm starting to think I was crazy for giving them up - I can't tell you what I'd do for a cigarette just about now."

Cheryl walked forward to the edge of the awning and, leaning out a bit, she peered both ways up the street. It took her only second to get her bearings and she soon pointed up the street. "If I remember right, there should be a gas station up thataways." She turned back to Bob and, raising her eyebrows, she grinned. "I'm guessing you won't mind walking in the rain if it gets you some smokes, huh?"

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-04 07:16 pm UTC (link)
Bob couldn't help it, he just had to fucking nod and confirm that she did, in fact, want a cigarette. It was the allure of the smoke, the taste of carcinogens, and the feeling of the little papery filter between one's fingers. It was a nasty-sweet addiction. At least it wasn't fucking heroin.

Fucking Gas station. Could that be the not-Quick Stop he'd read about? He'd been so fucking lazy without anybody to sort of pal around with he hadn't made it far from the post office. Why the fuck was that place locked, anyway?

Bob did a bit of a dance at the mention of walking in the rain. It sounded like a fucking party if it got him his cigs. Hopping down into the street Bob shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. God he hoped there were smokes ahead.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-04 09:11 pm UTC (link)
"Oh, you fuckin' enabler," Cheryl attempted a glare for his easy willingness to support her lapse in being a good non-smoker but she couldn't hold it for more than a second or two. Rapidly, the glare turned to a smirk and she just shook her head. "Not that I need much help; this place'd drive anyone to smoke." Or worse. Really, it was probably a good thing that there didn't seem to be too many chances to develop - or encourage - bad habits lying about.

Cheryl found herself laughing easily at Bob's little dance and, pulling the hood of her jacket over her hair, she stepped out into the street to join him. Still grinning, she moved to hook her arm through one of Bob's as she started down the middle of the street. "Well, Scarecrow, we're off to see the Wizard -- and he damn well better have some cigarettes."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-04 09:17 pm UTC (link)
'You fucking enabler,' she said. It was all Bob could do to smirk back. It was his job to be an enabler - he was a fucking drug dealer.

Bob would have jumped a little had his fucking cool not held out for a minute as she thread his arm through his. She was fucking hot, and there was something to be said for having a random hot chick holding your fucking arm off in the search for cigs in the rain.

Bob grinned and carried on, the pavement cracked and aged as it passed under his sneaker clad feet. There were a few more buildings that they passed; but, it didn't take long until Bob spotted the tell-tale pumps of the gas station.

"Sweet," he said quietly, stopping for a moment to look sideways at the building. It looked as creepy as the fucking barn. "Fucking camp Crystal Lake."

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-04 10:15 pm UTC (link)
Cheryl muttered a very frustrated curse once the gas station was finally in sight. She couldn't say what she had been expecting - or, at least, she couldn't admit to herself that she had harbored some hope for something vaguely normal; so it was a bit of a let down to see the rusted and slowly slumping gas pumps (those which looked a bit too much like rusty and sluggish monsters in the rain and in the fog) standing in front of a building which looked like it had last been inhabited some fifty years before she was even born. Again, she silently kicked herself for not being able to find even the most basic of weapons but she tried not to pay attention to the nagging paranoia.

"Perfect, isn't it? Final proof that nothing here is ever going to go our way," Shaking her head, she moved to push open the door leading deeper into the store and she turned to glance at Bob over her shoulder. "So, it's either a run-in with good old Jason--" or maybe a nurse or a numb body or how about a doublehead? "--or a nic fix. What'll it be?"

Acting more bravely than she felt, Cheryl ventured into the store. She initially chose to ignore whatever food and water options the place might offer in favor of walking behind the counter - where the cigarettes, chewing tobacco and other 'adult' goods were kept. A small cry of victory left her as she reached up to grab one of the remaining soft packs. "Aha! Maybe we aren't entirely out of luck after all."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-04 10:25 pm UTC (link)
Bob sighed, mostly because she was fucking right. Nothing was going to go their way. It just wasn't fucking fair. He'd spent the night before huddled up on a fucking couch in a barn and now he was staring at a building right out of the god damn fucking fifties.

Cheryl answered her own question as she pushed into the building leaving Bob no choice but to follow. stepping inside he noticed the muddy footprints on the floor and the crumpled papers strewn about. It looked like someone had been here recently.

While she went behind the counter Bob walked back to the cooler. Reaching inside he took up a couple of beers which he held up in his own silent victory call. He had brews, and from the sound of Cheryl there were some fucking smokes.

Moseying back up to the counter he set down one of the beers and set himself to popping the top off of the other. It might be fucking warm, but maybe it wouldn't be skunked. The cap landed on the counter with a pitter pat, and Bob happily watched as the brew frothed a bit at the agitation. There was life to the beer, hurrah!

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-04 10:51 pm UTC (link)
Cheryl turned around just in time to see Bob pop the top of his beer and she couldn't help but grin. She wasn't much of a drinker - well as far as the adult in her life knew - but it was just such a welcome sign of normality to see beer in actually normal bottles and cigarettes in those crinkly little packs. Sure, it wasn't quite enough to convince anyone that everything was one-hundred percent back to normal but it was a welcome step in the right direction.

Deft fingers quickly de-cellophaned the pack of cigarettes and the little foil guard was taken care of in much the same manner. Cheryl breathed deep the welcome - and vaguely missed - scent of the tobacco but she limited herself to teasing one cig out of the pack. Holding this loosely between her lips, she tossed the rest across to Bob.

"I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I guess someone's smiling on us," she chuckled, patting through her pockets in search of matches. "Cigarettes that haven't gone stale and beer that looks pretty damn normal..." The pessimistic side of her, the one which had been so well trained over the rest of her life, had to wonder when the other shoe would fall - when they'd find that the beer was poisoned or that the tobacco was laced with something - but Cheryl firmly refused to listen. "In this place, this is probably as good as it gets."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-05 11:16 am UTC (link)
The sound of the cellophane was welcomed, absorbed and internally praised the feeling of absolute need starting to creep up his spine as the nicotine seemed so very close to being attained.

Catching the pack Bob started to rock out. It was a victory to say the least. He could go back to his routine. This had to be the not-Quick Stop, so he could just fucking hang here for the rest of his time. They had booze and cigs and shit. It was a lot like having a piece of home.

Looking along the front of the counter Bob spotted the lighters with glee, plucking a cigarette from the pack he took up the lighter and enjoyed that practiced ceremony of getting his smoke on.

Taking a puff Bob visibly relaxed before taking a swig of his brew. Looking to Cheryl with an expression akin to bliss Bob nodded satisfactory. This was as good as it gets.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-05 01:14 pm UTC (link)
"Oh, of course," Cheryl sighed in amused frustration as Bob plucked a lighter from a small stock. The desperate search for matches, which would likely still be too wet to use anyway, was abandoned as she reached across to take one for herself. A quick flick and deep draw later and she was in smoker's heaven. Sure, the smoke burnt lungs which were no longer accustomed to the toxicity of it all but even that burn was intensely nice.

"Ah, that's the stuff," Eyes closed, she breathed out both a content sigh and a long plume of gray smoke. Some part of her had forgotten how soothing the ritual of having a smoke could be, but this was all too pleasant a reminder; vaguely, she made a note to conveniently forget where the smokes were stashed so she wouldn't get rehooked on the things but, for now, she was enjoying this too much to think about the long-term.

"I think I owe you a thanks," Cheryl spoke lightly as she reached for the beer bottle. It was warm, as would be expected, but she didn't care; it was beer and beer was something normal. Grinning, she lifted the bottle in a mock toast. "I probably wouldn't have found these if I hadn't run into you."



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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-05 07:53 pm UTC (link)
He watched as Cheryl returned to the habit again. He wasn't usually one to try and get people to return to addictions given up; but, it seemed like everybody needed something to calm them down. Nothing like a cig to say relaxation.

Bob leaned back against the counter, feeling like he might be able to loiter here for a while. He wondered where the fuck Jay really was and where the hell Piper went. Well, at least now he had Cheryl and he didn't have to fucking hang out by himself for now.

'I think I owe you a thinks,' she said causing Bob to turn around to face her instead of surveying the rather dilapidated store. Shaking his head he shook off her thanks; there was really no fucking thanks necessary because without her he wouldn't have found any cigs.

Raising his bottle he took his own mock salute. He wondered what he'd fucking have to do to get a boombox. A boombox would make this place a hell of a lot more like home.

Both the beer and his cig in the same hand he pointed to the stock of canned goods with the other. They looked kind of fucking suspect to him; then again nobody was asking him. Stepping away from the counter and took up one of the cans labeled beef stew. Holding it up for a second he turned before setting it on the counter in front of Cheryl with the look of, 'how the fuck are we supposed to open this shit up?'

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-05 09:24 pm UTC (link)
"Hm?" Cheryl raised her eyebrows as Bob pointed toward a display of canned goods. Her first reaction was to tell him to leave them the hell alone - who knew, after all, what might really be inside any of those cans? Not that there had been any bait and switch as far as any of the other supplies went but Cheryl wasn't about to put much faith in the idea that someone out there was looking out for their well-being - not that it made much difference since it didn't seem like anyone had thought to leave a can opener lying around.

Realizing that her cig had been smoked down to its filter, she quickly crushed it out underfoot and then moved to join Bob on the other side of the counter. The stock of cans was given a speculative glance but she soon moved her attention to the store at large.

It took her only a moment to walk the few aisles but Cheryl was hardly surprised to find that nothing even slightly useful was left anywhere they could find it. Frowning, she turned back to Bob.

"So, how hard is your head?" A joke - not a very funny one, true, but it was an attempt. "Doesn't look like there's anything useful here. There might be something at that goodwill place though - even if it's just a hammer and a nail." She paused long enough to grin - and to take a long sip of her beer. "So, how desperate are you for a bowl of stew?"




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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-06 09:11 am UTC (link)
Judging from the look on Cheryl's face, she had the same level of skepticism he did about the canned goods and thier contents. They fucking looked like they were left over from the time of evacuation drills and fucking bomb shelters. Then again, it's not like labels had changed all that fucking much.

Cheryl walked the aisles, and of course nothing fucking useful was to be found. It's not like anything was ever fucking easy in this place unless it was getting a fucking smoke and a brew.

Standing up Bob shrugged to the thought of heading off to the thrift shop. There was always good shit at the goodwill back home. Depositing his cigs, lighter and smokes into his one pocket, Bob walked back to the canned goods and put a few into his other - no sense crushing the cigs. With an abrupt cant of his head in the direction of the door, Bob signalled it was time to be off to the thrift shop before depositing himself back out into the overcast afternoon air.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-06 12:50 pm UTC (link)
Cheryl gave the stock of cans a speculative glance but, after a moment, she decided to leave them where they were. She still hadn't exactly regained her appetite and, perhaps more importantly, she hadn't yet decided that she fully trusted anything freely offered to her in this place - even if it came in mostly normal (if not ancient looking) cans. What she didn't hesitate to take was the lighter which she had earlier used but she did stop herself before grabbing another pack of cigs - she didn't need them. Really. She wasn't going to get fully back into the habit just because she was feeling a little stress.

Cheryl hurried to exit the store before she could change her mind and she soon joined Bob out on the rain speckled street. Once again, she took a brief glance up and down the street but it took her only a moment to get oriented enough to start walking in the general direction of where she assumed the thrift shop to be.

"It's almost like a scavenger hunt, huh?" She snorted slightly and shook her head. "Except instead of running around, bugging people for license plates or plugged nickels or underwear or whatever, you have to run all over town to find tools so you can eat."

Well, Cheryl mused to herself with an interior wry smile, at least she had some experience with the whole having to trek all over a town in order to find necessary supplies. Not that it was anything even close to a comfort - quite the opposite really - but at least it was something sickly familiar.

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-06 10:27 pm UTC (link)
Bob was fucking amused by Cheryl - and not in the same way he was amused by Jay. Jay was fucking randomness. He was fucking crazy talk. Cheryl, on the other hand, was more the sort that was rational funny. He appreciated that. She was like a funny version of Dante (sans being a fucking pussy.)

Her comment about the scavenger hunt made Bob give her a half-grin. Tools were kind of a fucking weird ass thing to go looking for. A fucking can opener, no less. Who the fuck goes searching for a can opener? Were they on fucking survivor or some shit?

Bob knew the path to the thrift shop well - he'd been there day one with Piper. Once they got there he pushed open the door pretty easily. He knew there wasn't too much in the way of crazy shit in there - just some clothes from 1953. Though, some of those were fucking scary as fuck.

Why the fuck didn't this place give them the easy pull top cans, anyway? Campbells chunky soup fo rthe fucking win.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-06 11:55 pm UTC (link)
Cheryl was finding this whole adventure to be far less aggravating than she initially thought it would be. It would have been so very easy to get frustrated with the ongoing trend of everything useful either being missing or scattered to opposite ends of the town but somehow having someone to share in the endless loop just made it a little less trying. She supposed that it helped, too, that her current companion somehow knew how to be good company without even having to speak much.

Stepping inside the store, Cheryl glanced around with her habitual wariness but she noticed nothing too frightening - aside from some of the clothes left lying around.

"Frills and pearls - just what I've been looking for. I might have to come back here for a change of clothes," she muttered mostly to herself as she brushed past a rather dated pink dress hanging on display. The rest of the fashion offerings were ignored easily enough as Cheryl worked her way through the various displays but she found no obvious hint of where kitchen or even camping gear might be stowed.

"How good are you at playing find the can opener in the fashion disaster-stack?" Cheryl called over her shoulder to Bob. "I can't find a damn thing in this place."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-07 12:33 pm UTC (link)
'Frills and Pearls,' She said, causing Bob to stop staring at the weird ass cowboy boots in yellow that were hanging out near the front door. Picking up a rather interesting powder blue leisure suit coat Bob whistled to get Cheryl's attention before batting his eyes and making a face as if it was the best fucking thing he'd ever found, grinning and swinging the hanger.

Pushing through the hangers Bob spotted a small set of shelves in the back corner of the store - waving he pointed Cheryl in the direction of the collection of shiny objects. Wait - was that a fucking golden calf statue? No fucking way!

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-07 02:11 pm UTC (link)
Her attention drawn, Cheryl turned around just in time to see Bob holding up just about the ugliest leisure suit coat she'd ever seen. Despite that, she grinned widely and flashed him a thumbs up. "That coat is so you. You definitely need to try that on right now. This could be the start of a whole new look for you - especially if we can find the rest of the suit."

Cheryl was still laughing quietly at the idea of Bob in a powder blue leisure suit when her attention was directed to the collection of shiny objects. Eyebrows raised, she walked her way back to the shelves but she was rather distracted from her mission when she spotted a velvet Elvis leaning against the wall.

"Oh man, I didn't even know these actually existed. I thought they were just a bad pot hallucination from the seventies," she snickered and shook her head but her attention soon wandered back to one of the lower shelves. This shelf seemed to hold an array of kitchen tools which might have been home in the kitchen of an old farm woman during the great depression - but there, hidden toward the back...

"I don't believe it!" Cheryl exclaimed happily as she snatched up what appeared to be a very old can opener. It was nothing fancy and it looked as if it might have been new a few dozen years ago but it could open those cans of stew. Maybe.

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-08 09:10 am UTC (link)
Bob didn't fucking believe it either. He plucked up the gold-painted ceramic calf statue and turned it between his nicotine stained fingers. Sure, it wasn't like the *real* Mooby. Mooby was more cartoonish and this little cow more rightly resembled livestock. So fucking what? It was just like the not-Quick-Stop, and the whole idea that shitty smokes were as good as his usual ones. Bob, truthfully, hadn't given much thought to the possibility of fucking 'escpape' and had settled his attention more aptly on making the best of a fucked up situation.

To Cheryl's exclaimation Bob perked, following her hands as they fumbled through some fucking grotesque looking appliances. Where the fuck were they? Misery and shit? Some of that shit fucking screamed crazy ass dentist. Scrunching his features Bob looked speculatively at the appliance. Taking out a can he set it on the shelf.

No time like the fucking present, right?

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-08 01:22 pm UTC (link)
It finally struck Cheryl to look at what Bob was doing and, upon seeing him playing with a little gold calf, she raised her eyebrows. That was...most definitely not something she would have expected a guy like Bob to pick, but, hey, whatever floated the proverbial boat. "You aren't going to start worshiping that or anything, right?" She asked teasingly. "Because that would just be fucked up, even with all the other fucked up stuff going on."

"Do you wanna do the honors?" Standing from her crouch, she held out the can opener in offering to Bob and jiggled it a bit between her fingers. "You were the one to find the cans of stew, after all."

And Cheryl wasn't entirely eager to see what might be inside those cans. The fact that they were clearly labeled and fairly normal looking really didn't do much to placate her fears; it was still easy to imagine that it was not so much stew as bloody hell in a can.

Knowing that she wouldn't want to see it should that be true, she turned her attention back to the shelves where the opener had been found. She browsed them idly but, in truth, she was still looking for something small and sharp, even if her hope of finding anything like that had officially waned.

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-10 07:48 pm UTC (link)
Bob snickered to her mention of his worshiping the little statue. He'd met fucking God. God who wears flip flops and fucking weird ass dresses and does fucking hand stands. He wasn't going to worship the damn thing - just look at it like a little reminder of home. Why didn't this fucking town have a fucking Mooby's anyway? They were fucking everywhere...

Taking the can opener as it was offered with a shrug, Bob lined up the damned thing with the can and squeezed, feeling the teeth bite into the lid with a bit of a hiss. The can was old, that was for damned sure. Turning the gears with considerable effort his mouth was fucking watering. Plucking off the lid Bob grinned. It WAS fucking stew. It didn't look too fucking bad by the looks of it, either. Plucking up a small pot victoriously, Bob lit his lighter. They had soup, a pot, and fire.

Time for chow.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-10 10:36 pm UTC (link)
"Oh, thank god," Cheryl sighed quietly once the lid of the can was opened and the contents revealed. Now that it was proven that the stew appeared to be entirely fine, she did have a moment of feeling foolish for even thinking that the contents would be anything other than fairly standard beef stew but she still wasn't entirely sure that she'd feel comfortable eating anything native to this strange place. "Looks like dinner's on."

While Bob occupied himself with heating the stew, Cheryl sorted through the rest of the various tools on the shelf where the can opener was found. It only took her a moment or two to find a pair of forks; both were a bit rusty and both had ridiculous pink handles seemingly made of cheap plastic, but they should serve their purpose. Straightening, she offered her dining partner a faint grin. "Too bad we didn't think to bring more beer, really do this up proper."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-11 11:29 pm UTC (link)

Dumping the contents of the can into the pot Bob smiled to her observation that it was totally dinner time.. or brunch... or fucking linner. Who the hell knew what meal time it fucking was. All Bob knew was that his stomach was already doing the happy dance in anticipation of food.

Bob grinned as she offered the forks, making a head motion in the direction of the door before nodding in complete agreement about the fucking brews. Brews would have been sweet.

Snatching up a couple of old ass newspapers and a couple of books, Bob headed out the door with the pot of stew in hand, ready to light a fucking fire and heat the shit out of this motherfucker. Making a neat little pile of crumpled paper, leaned books, and some fucking sticks off a nearby bush, Bob hoped his makeshift fire would burn long enough for him to heat up the whole fucking thing.

Holding the far end of the handle over the extremely smokey fire, Bob held his breath.

Please just fucking work

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-12 01:36 am UTC (link)
Cheryl stepped after Bob with complete intention of following him out of the store but then something caught her eye and brought her up short. She didn't know if he saw the gesture, but she threw a singe fingered gesture, the one generally accepted to mean 'one minute', at his back before ducking back into the cluttered aisles. It took her only a moment to find the curved handle, once likely bright and golden but now rather tarnished, which had drawn her attention. She frowned briefly at the weighty bulk of junk under which it was buried but that certainly didn't stop Cheryl from wrapping both hands around it and tugging.

All of the junk came in a cascade of glorious nostalgia and, though she did tumble underneath its weight, Cheryl was pleased to find that she came away with an umbrella in hand. Of course, said umbrella wasn't the best to be found - it was done up in a rather gaudy display of cartoonish animals, the struts which helped its shape were bent rather badly, and it was a definite struggle to even get it to open but it was still better than nothing.

Walking back outside, Cheryl grinned to see Bob already hard at work on heating the stew. After a bit of a struggle, she managed to pop the umbrella open and she almost immediately moved so that it would offer some bit of cover to both Bob and his impromptu fire.

"I don't know if it'll help any," she offered in way of explanation, shrugging slightly. "but it has to be better than letting the rain get all over your kindling. Hopefully, it'll hold until the stew's warm enough to eat."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-12 05:28 pm UTC (link)
Bob, blinking a few moments into the smoke realized that Cheryl hadn't immediately come out with him. Turning around to look at the door he heard a clatter of sounds - like a lot of somethings falling over. Bob canted his head, deciding that if she didn't reappear in the time it took him to count to twenty he'd go in there after her.

He didn't even make it to ten before he saw her coming out with a garish looking umbrella. Giving her a look accented with scrunched brows and his lower lip yanked to the left - Bob silently asked 'What the fuck?' It could have been a kids item once upon a time - but now with all the spokes broken and mismashed the shape of the umbrella resembled a pancake more than an upside down bowl. A pancake with flared edges no less.

The little teepee fire with it's billowing white smoke seemed to appreciate the umbrella, the burning of the bigger sticks possibly not quite so hard anymore. Bob shrugged, he'd been kicked out of the Boy Scouts after the incident at the science fair. Somebody seemed to think it wasn't appropriate for a scout to have access to, let alone make anything out of, a vibrator.

Shaking the pot a bit he thought he was starting to see some steam come rolling up off the edges. That, he guessed, was a good sign. Offering Cheryl a head bob of thanks he again swirled the stew. Wouldn't want to burn it and shit.

It took some time for the stew to start to simmer - so much time that Bob was wondering if the whole cooking over fire thing was really something people had made up. Big bubbles started popping in the gravy-like sauce and Bob started to feel more and more accomplished. He'd fucking cooked and shit. Jay would never fucking believe it.

Nodding toward the pot Bob offered her some, it smelled pretty damned good for mystery food. He supposed it could be fucking worse. They could have fucking diet shit to eat. Who the fuck likes that shit anyway? Even worse: frozen diet shit. Tasteless shit. All meant to make fat people feel even worse about eating. It made Bob turn to fucking doughnuts every time. Talk about comfort fucking food.

Taking up the rusty fork she'd offered earlier Bob speared a Potato and popped it into his mouth. It wasn't exactly hot - but, it was warmer than the rain, and that offered some fucking comfort. Giving a nod of satisfaction he went in for what he guessed was a fucking carrot.

Good shit.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-13 02:38 pm UTC (link)
"I never would've taken you for a Boy Scout," Cheryl commented idly as she watched the stew begin to bubble a bit around the edges. The warm scent of the heating gravy drifted up to her and, though she was wary to admit as much, she found herself thinking that it actually smelled good - not as good as a Happy Burger would taste about now, granted, but like real honest food all the same. "If you keep being this useful, I might have to keep you around."

She was attempting to joke around, that much was probably obvious, but she also felt that there was a grain of truth somewhere in-between. The fact that Bob was actually taking time out to help her in the midst of all this craziness said something about him but the fact that he hadn't yet shown any real inclination to use the situation (or that he was even somehow involved in it) spoke even more. He was obviously just another person caught up in...whatever the hell this situation could be called - and that meant that he could maybe probably be trusted.

Even for this slowly growing trust, Cheryl did wait for him to take the first taste of the stew before feeling confident enough to try it herself. Once she was fairly sure that there was nothing nasty hiding in the thick brown gravy, she crouched down and speared a stray potato. As she chewed this thoughtfully, she continued to hold the umbrella over the two of them with one hand - it wasn't the best or the most reliable shelter, already beginning to leak a little as it was, but it was better than nothing. "Yea. I think I might definitely have to keep you around."

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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-14 08:28 am UTC (link)
Bob snickered to the thought of anyone actually assuming him to be a boyscout in any capacity. He could build a fire, and found himself generally to be a naturally chivalrous sort; but, weren't boyscouts supposed to be all adventurous and shit? Bob would sooner just make the rest of his life rather comfortably at the Not-Quick-Stop. It wasn't really so bad here if one didn't take not having a real bed too badly.

'Yea, I think I might definitely have to keep you around,' she said, and Bob sort of grinned a bit. He wasn't usually the sort people wanted to keep around; or really even noticed was there at all. Usually, people just kind of overlooked him and only really commented when they thought that he ought to be saying something. Fuck that shit. Bob talked when Bob wanted to, and that's all there really was to it.

The fire was starting to smouler, which kind of bummed Bob out because it was kind of nice to be actually warmed by something for a change. Not that his coat wasn't warm and shit - it was just...

Looking back to the thrift shop Bob raised his brow, tilting his head in the direction of the shelter. They could at least stay dry in there; and it's not like the fire would be too good for keeping warm much longer. Awkwardly pushing himself to his feet, Bob took a deep breath and extended his free hand to help her up and shit. Not that the umbrella wasn't thoughtful - it's just the roof worked a little bit better.

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[info]tufui_egoeris
2009-04-14 01:41 pm UTC (link)
Cheryl raised her eyebrows at the offered hand and she couldn't quite keep a small laugh from escaping her smiling lips. Oh, not that she was laughing at Bob this time either; again, it was the unexpectedness of the gesture that simply caught her off guard and left her with little other reaction. Shaking her head, she accepted the hand and the help to return to her feet. "Who says that chivalry's dead?"

She nodded agreement to his suggestion that they go back to the thrift store but, before starting off in that direction, she frowned a bit at the broken umbrella still in her hand. It had become pretty obvious that it had outlived its usefulness, if just because a nice pool of water had collected on the flat top instead of running down the should-be-rounded sides, but she didn't really want to just throw it away; true, a broken umbrella wasn't good for much but the tip could be enough to pierce if thrust hard enough and it was blunt enough to make one or two good blows possible.

The lingering paranoia of the situation prompted her to decide to simply shake the water from the top and collapse it instead of just tossing the umbrella aside. Nodding to Bob, Cheryl started the short walk back toward the shelter of the store.

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