InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Yes, Master!"

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

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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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