Justric Member
STATUS: No longer here. youtube.com/watch?v=RLBo1HJK.. 9 yrs ago- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Justric
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And thus we see why Kuro totally rocks.
And thus we go from "The Last Kings of Orion" to "The Kings of Orion Street"...
Hob
Status: He's currently being examined by Dev before starting his shift, confused and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Once logged in, he'll meet up with OLGA to help her data mine. What they'll find? We'll just have to see. And (related) there will probably be a few more random Ghost sightings such as Connor had... I had an idea as to why the mining bay was left in such a state by Second Shift.
Future: Things will probably actually get worse before they get better for the NI-techs, especially if Hob and OLGA start finding things out that people don't want known! If it comes to that point, who will ally themselves with them? I would like to see the character pursue a relationship, healthy or unhealthy, although whether it's with OLGA (who may not truly understand the concept?) or someone else is up in the air. The ending I see for Hob is one where he's finally at peace and free to make his own choices. What happens in the story would determine what sort of choices he makes in the end and whether any of them are final or not.
Jack
Status: Trying to cage a kiss from Penny!
Future: A side-character (and, let's face it, comic relief), I had no immediate plans for him other than to build a still and to sincerely pursue a relationship with Penny. Should Henry or anyone else interfere with the latter, we'll get to see a considerably darker side of the Newfoundlander. Otherwise this leaves him free to get involved in whatever else turns up. Ultimately, I'm hoping he gets his wish, that somewhere on New Canaan his family rebuilds a place like Newfoundland with all of its virtues, its vices, its simplicity, and its quirks.
Status: He's currently being examined by Dev before starting his shift, confused and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Once logged in, he'll meet up with OLGA to help her data mine. What they'll find? We'll just have to see. And (related) there will probably be a few more random Ghost sightings such as Connor had... I had an idea as to why the mining bay was left in such a state by Second Shift.
Future: Things will probably actually get worse before they get better for the NI-techs, especially if Hob and OLGA start finding things out that people don't want known! If it comes to that point, who will ally themselves with them? I would like to see the character pursue a relationship, healthy or unhealthy, although whether it's with OLGA (who may not truly understand the concept?) or someone else is up in the air. The ending I see for Hob is one where he's finally at peace and free to make his own choices. What happens in the story would determine what sort of choices he makes in the end and whether any of them are final or not.
Jack
Status: Trying to cage a kiss from Penny!
Future: A side-character (and, let's face it, comic relief), I had no immediate plans for him other than to build a still and to sincerely pursue a relationship with Penny. Should Henry or anyone else interfere with the latter, we'll get to see a considerably darker side of the Newfoundlander. Otherwise this leaves him free to get involved in whatever else turns up. Ultimately, I'm hoping he gets his wish, that somewhere on New Canaan his family rebuilds a place like Newfoundland with all of its virtues, its vices, its simplicity, and its quirks.
Hob did not smile or show any emotion at all as the nurse explained her stance. She was like a small, dark whirlwind, asserting herself as though there was no question as to either her authority or how things were going to be. He didn't quite know what to make of that. Settling into a cynical but silent neutrality seemed the best way to handle things at the moment, though his eyes followed her shrewdly as she exited graciously. For a heartbeat, he watched the door as though daring it to be anything but a door. Then he turned to prepare himself for the stripping down and wiring up.
Only he was alone. This... was strange. No sign of medicos and engineers rushing forth to remove his jumpsuit and lace with him wires and sensors and (shudder) catheters like a pit crew servicing a race car mid-race. In fact, there were not catheters in sight at all! Pausing to quickly relieve himself in the connected bathroom suite, he finished removing the rest of his overalls but dared to leave his boxers on. No one shouted at him or cursed at him to finished undressing. Rubbing at his face, he looked back towards the door in careful disbelief. The rust colored suit was tossed into the locker along with the handheld.
Had the nurse really meant what she said? Hope was too much to bear, but it certainly seemed true! Then again, Hob recalled the training sessions he and the others had gone through that were meant to help them distinguish physical sensation from virtual. While the current scenario didn't seem reminiscent of any of those grueling mind-fucks, his imagination could easily make the jumps to see the connections. Possible then... but not likely. If she had been serious, how long could it last? Everyone from the scientists involved in their 'creation' to the mysterious men in black who had found them to their handlers and officers like Harris had made it clear that the NI-techs lot in life was not going to be a happy one. In fact, they actively seemed to work to make it so! Harris had taken her orders from someone else before this Devika person, and that person had orders from higher up... How long could such largesse last?
These thoughts still bothered him as he laid himself out upon the memory foam mattress of the sliding bed. It was the sole luxury of being 'installed'. Glancing to one side, he saw the oxygen mask waiting for him as well as all the wires that the techs would soon be placing across his body. A glance upwards revealed the dark interior of the tube itself. Once his bed was slid into place, he would be locked in that tube to wait the mercy of being uploaded and mentally away from the claustrophobia that always threatened. The straps were still there, too, restraints they would place about his chest, head, and limbs to keep him still. There was too much of a chance of seizures occurring. Were an NI-tech to flail about, they could hurt themselves... not to mention the equipment. The damned respirator mask was even fitted with a mouth bit.
Still... no catheter...
Hob closed his eyes and looked back towards the door to see what weirdness was going to come next.
"...there's be a statue of you and yours in every town square..."
No doubt her words had been meant to be kind. That or she was a manipulator par excellence. Only Hob knew history, or at least enough of it to see the downfalls in such a thing. Raising statues and praising the NI-tech's sacrifices to future generations would do nothing but glorify what they had endured. For Hob, there was no glory in any of this. And knowing the minds, quite literally, of his fellow NI-techs he felt confident in saying that none of them saw anything laudable in any of it either. The pain, the discomfort, the abuse... it would all be minimized and maybe even forgotten over time. No one wanted to look back on their ancestors and think bad of them, after all. The words of one of his favorite authors of the turn of the 21st Century came back to him: 'How dare you! At this time! In this place! They did the job they didn't have to do, and they died doing it, and you can't give them anything. Do you understand? They fought for those who'd been abandoned, they fought for one another, and they were betrayed. Men like them always are. What good would a statue be? It'd just inspire new fools to believe they're going to be heroes. They wouldn't want that. Just let them be. Forever.'
Out of nowhere, Hob wondered if Devika Wilkes-Lane ever read any Terry Pratchett. And whether she liked tea.
Only he was alone. This... was strange. No sign of medicos and engineers rushing forth to remove his jumpsuit and lace with him wires and sensors and (shudder) catheters like a pit crew servicing a race car mid-race. In fact, there were not catheters in sight at all! Pausing to quickly relieve himself in the connected bathroom suite, he finished removing the rest of his overalls but dared to leave his boxers on. No one shouted at him or cursed at him to finished undressing. Rubbing at his face, he looked back towards the door in careful disbelief. The rust colored suit was tossed into the locker along with the handheld.
Had the nurse really meant what she said? Hope was too much to bear, but it certainly seemed true! Then again, Hob recalled the training sessions he and the others had gone through that were meant to help them distinguish physical sensation from virtual. While the current scenario didn't seem reminiscent of any of those grueling mind-fucks, his imagination could easily make the jumps to see the connections. Possible then... but not likely. If she had been serious, how long could it last? Everyone from the scientists involved in their 'creation' to the mysterious men in black who had found them to their handlers and officers like Harris had made it clear that the NI-techs lot in life was not going to be a happy one. In fact, they actively seemed to work to make it so! Harris had taken her orders from someone else before this Devika person, and that person had orders from higher up... How long could such largesse last?
These thoughts still bothered him as he laid himself out upon the memory foam mattress of the sliding bed. It was the sole luxury of being 'installed'. Glancing to one side, he saw the oxygen mask waiting for him as well as all the wires that the techs would soon be placing across his body. A glance upwards revealed the dark interior of the tube itself. Once his bed was slid into place, he would be locked in that tube to wait the mercy of being uploaded and mentally away from the claustrophobia that always threatened. The straps were still there, too, restraints they would place about his chest, head, and limbs to keep him still. There was too much of a chance of seizures occurring. Were an NI-tech to flail about, they could hurt themselves... not to mention the equipment. The damned respirator mask was even fitted with a mouth bit.
Still... no catheter...
Hob closed his eyes and looked back towards the door to see what weirdness was going to come next.
"...there's be a statue of you and yours in every town square..."
No doubt her words had been meant to be kind. That or she was a manipulator par excellence. Only Hob knew history, or at least enough of it to see the downfalls in such a thing. Raising statues and praising the NI-tech's sacrifices to future generations would do nothing but glorify what they had endured. For Hob, there was no glory in any of this. And knowing the minds, quite literally, of his fellow NI-techs he felt confident in saying that none of them saw anything laudable in any of it either. The pain, the discomfort, the abuse... it would all be minimized and maybe even forgotten over time. No one wanted to look back on their ancestors and think bad of them, after all. The words of one of his favorite authors of the turn of the 21st Century came back to him: 'How dare you! At this time! In this place! They did the job they didn't have to do, and they died doing it, and you can't give them anything. Do you understand? They fought for those who'd been abandoned, they fought for one another, and they were betrayed. Men like them always are. What good would a statue be? It'd just inspire new fools to believe they're going to be heroes. They wouldn't want that. Just let them be. Forever.'
Out of nowhere, Hob wondered if Devika Wilkes-Lane ever read any Terry Pratchett. And whether she liked tea.
Jack blinked in surprise at the woman's arrival and sudden departure. They both stood there upon the catwalk, stunned for a moment before Jack chuckled. "See der, Penny," he laughed openly, "All dem smarts in der heads, an' dey still gets all back forwards like de rest of us! Don't know her head from her hole, dat one. Wonder who pissed in her cornflakes."
He cocked his head back down to look at her. With quick fingers, he deftly and innocently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Penny's face to better see her in the glow of the vast aquarium. "Hope you're havin' a time, Duck," he admitted bashfully. "Here I sees you an' I likes what I sees, an' I hear you an' I like what you says and how you says it. An' blow me over if you don't know yer way 'round the kitchen!" Jack held up the small package of cookies both as evidence and in pride, and then lowered his hand again. The other hand, still holding hers, gave a light squeeze.
"Folks like me an' you? New world's gonna need us more dan it needs all dem chuckleheads in der lab coats, b'y. Guaranteed, b'y! How long you t'ink all der fancy chummies an' thing-ma-bobs gonna work? Nar replacements t' be had, I'm t'inking. Arse'll fall right out of 'er! An' back in the deep freezers, how many folks we got were lawyers an' consultants an' advertisers an' the like, huh? Never done an honest day's work, I bet! But me an' you, Penny? We don't need no fancy gear to do our jobs, no sir-ee! Human race gonna stay in for the lang haul? It's good cooks an' craftsmen what'll win the day. Hard work, honest work, doin' what we loves!"
Jack stepped around in front of her and smiled softly. "Now, to make a lang stary shart, dis here is what's I'm driving at. Hopin' here that I don't make myself out to be an angishore, but I'd like to see you again and soon. If you're of a mind, dat is. 'Cause here I'm t'inkin' we're in the same boat an' only so much to do but I can't t'ink of anyone I'd rather do it wit'. An' being a gentleman, or least ways much of one as me mudder raised me up to be, I won't ask for what ain't offered."
"Only der's dis kiss what's been hanging' from yer lips since I first seen you, an' I keeps looking' at it an' wondering' if you knows it's der, an' if'n you'd let me have it to sweeten these here cookies all the more?"
He cocked his head back down to look at her. With quick fingers, he deftly and innocently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Penny's face to better see her in the glow of the vast aquarium. "Hope you're havin' a time, Duck," he admitted bashfully. "Here I sees you an' I likes what I sees, an' I hear you an' I like what you says and how you says it. An' blow me over if you don't know yer way 'round the kitchen!" Jack held up the small package of cookies both as evidence and in pride, and then lowered his hand again. The other hand, still holding hers, gave a light squeeze.
"Folks like me an' you? New world's gonna need us more dan it needs all dem chuckleheads in der lab coats, b'y. Guaranteed, b'y! How long you t'ink all der fancy chummies an' thing-ma-bobs gonna work? Nar replacements t' be had, I'm t'inking. Arse'll fall right out of 'er! An' back in the deep freezers, how many folks we got were lawyers an' consultants an' advertisers an' the like, huh? Never done an honest day's work, I bet! But me an' you, Penny? We don't need no fancy gear to do our jobs, no sir-ee! Human race gonna stay in for the lang haul? It's good cooks an' craftsmen what'll win the day. Hard work, honest work, doin' what we loves!"
Jack stepped around in front of her and smiled softly. "Now, to make a lang stary shart, dis here is what's I'm driving at. Hopin' here that I don't make myself out to be an angishore, but I'd like to see you again and soon. If you're of a mind, dat is. 'Cause here I'm t'inkin' we're in the same boat an' only so much to do but I can't t'ink of anyone I'd rather do it wit'. An' being a gentleman, or least ways much of one as me mudder raised me up to be, I won't ask for what ain't offered."
"Only der's dis kiss what's been hanging' from yer lips since I first seen you, an' I keeps looking' at it an' wondering' if you knows it's der, an' if'n you'd let me have it to sweeten these here cookies all the more?"
Slowly returning to the land of the living. Will try to post later tonight if I can.
The Jaeger raised both eyebrows, clearly impressed and… proud? Ivy may not have been a Heterodyne but some kindred spark deep within seemed to have lit up when pressed against the wall. He couldn't help but grin widely at her verbal assault upon the undead pirate. Even the clank hounds seemed less inclined to growl at her, and that was before her little spider clank had neatly sliced off the one dog’s foreleg! For the first time in a while, Jötz began to feel as though he was on familiar ground.
The sickly green glow in Ludd’s eyes tracked Ivy as advanced upon him. Briefly, the sockets flashed red as though in warning or in anger as the girl ranted in the way that only a true Spark might, issuing threats and blustering her own self-importance over his own. When she turned her back on the lich, he lowered the hand with the gun. And then, when Ivy hinted that she might yet be willing to help, the gun was gently placed upon the desk.
“The current Heterodyne or not,” he murmured clinically, “you seem to have the general thrust. Although you remind me far more of… someone else.” The captain paused as though lost in thought and memory before continuing the conversation.
Ludd gestured with a skeletal hand towards the remainder hounds, which slunk off down the corridor until only their glowing yellow eyes could be seen lurking about the engine room. “You are… quite right, Lady Heterodyne,” he declared louder, “The hounds have a limited range. As my crew and guardians, they can not operate beyond a set perimeter without me and I? I can not leave this room. Physically, at any rate. I do have other methods of flexing my will albeit to a limited extent. Forgive me if I do not give you the particulars regarding those ranges and limits? Suffice to say that they would be great enough to cause you and your Jaeger considerable inconvenience should you be less than inclined to be helpful. And thank you for confirming that I am not remembered upon the surface! “
That same dry chuckle filled the stale air of the cabin again. “Oh, the libraries that I will loot! The repositories that I shall raid! Universities and schools to plunder! My treasure will be increased ten fold by the time I am ready to die again!”
Sitting back into his chair, he rested one hand upon the desk. “With a few additional repairs to my barge, I can take you to nearly any town or city of note so long as the canals are not blocked or drained. Even if the engines are in less than optimal condition the clank hounds can serve to tow us along.”
“Now you could refuse this deal, yes,” Ludd conceded willingly as though in casual debate, “although anything less than a swift agreement will lead to your joining me in a watery grave.”
The barge shuddered suddenly as the air was filled with the sounds of pressure hatches blaming shut throughout the boat, sealing them into the lower deck. “You see, if you don’t agree I will simply sink my boat. I’m dead already anyway, and since I am in no condition to make use of my treasure it is worthless to me. Not unless I get a new body. So I have nothing to lose really.”
“But! I will sweeten the deal. If you help me get a live human body to my specifications and bring me back to true life once more, you may take as many tomes from my shelves as you can carry by yourself. I assure you many of them are…. one of a kind… and most likely contain secrets that died with their authors.” Ludd hesitated and then honestly adding, “I might have had something to do with their deaths, admittedly.”
“But I will swear to you, on the heart of my lost love, that so long as you do not betray me, I will not betray you. I swear it on the name of Agnes St. Mayhew.”
The sickly green glow in Ludd’s eyes tracked Ivy as advanced upon him. Briefly, the sockets flashed red as though in warning or in anger as the girl ranted in the way that only a true Spark might, issuing threats and blustering her own self-importance over his own. When she turned her back on the lich, he lowered the hand with the gun. And then, when Ivy hinted that she might yet be willing to help, the gun was gently placed upon the desk.
“The current Heterodyne or not,” he murmured clinically, “you seem to have the general thrust. Although you remind me far more of… someone else.” The captain paused as though lost in thought and memory before continuing the conversation.
Ludd gestured with a skeletal hand towards the remainder hounds, which slunk off down the corridor until only their glowing yellow eyes could be seen lurking about the engine room. “You are… quite right, Lady Heterodyne,” he declared louder, “The hounds have a limited range. As my crew and guardians, they can not operate beyond a set perimeter without me and I? I can not leave this room. Physically, at any rate. I do have other methods of flexing my will albeit to a limited extent. Forgive me if I do not give you the particulars regarding those ranges and limits? Suffice to say that they would be great enough to cause you and your Jaeger considerable inconvenience should you be less than inclined to be helpful. And thank you for confirming that I am not remembered upon the surface! “
That same dry chuckle filled the stale air of the cabin again. “Oh, the libraries that I will loot! The repositories that I shall raid! Universities and schools to plunder! My treasure will be increased ten fold by the time I am ready to die again!”
Sitting back into his chair, he rested one hand upon the desk. “With a few additional repairs to my barge, I can take you to nearly any town or city of note so long as the canals are not blocked or drained. Even if the engines are in less than optimal condition the clank hounds can serve to tow us along.”
“Now you could refuse this deal, yes,” Ludd conceded willingly as though in casual debate, “although anything less than a swift agreement will lead to your joining me in a watery grave.”
The barge shuddered suddenly as the air was filled with the sounds of pressure hatches blaming shut throughout the boat, sealing them into the lower deck. “You see, if you don’t agree I will simply sink my boat. I’m dead already anyway, and since I am in no condition to make use of my treasure it is worthless to me. Not unless I get a new body. So I have nothing to lose really.”
“But! I will sweeten the deal. If you help me get a live human body to my specifications and bring me back to true life once more, you may take as many tomes from my shelves as you can carry by yourself. I assure you many of them are…. one of a kind… and most likely contain secrets that died with their authors.” Ludd hesitated and then honestly adding, “I might have had something to do with their deaths, admittedly.”
“But I will swear to you, on the heart of my lost love, that so long as you do not betray me, I will not betray you. I swear it on the name of Agnes St. Mayhew.”
Watching the blue-haired engineer walk off, Hob leaned back against the wall and slid back to a sitting position. Seven minutes. Seven minutes to go, and he'd be damned if he'd be any earlier than he had to be. Better to sit and chat with random strangers than go in early, even if he felt slightly guilty for terrifying the kid. All the same, Connor might as well have been quoting every single bad movie, sitcom, and book when he had mentioned his 'totally random major brain operation.' Something like that was hardly random! Hob wondered what it was they wanted the kid to agree to. Nothing pleasant, no doubt. He knew they were down NI-techs at the moment, one in a fugue and the other gone back into stasis with multiple personality disorder to sleep out the rest of the journey with nearly a decade's worth of nightmares to keep him company. Hob scratched the scruff of his chin as he looked once more in the direction that Connor had gone. Maybe it was worth a look into the files, see what it was they wanted the kid for, if anything?
Hob was readily admit he might just have been paranoid, but the encounter had left him a tad concerned for Connor. If someone was insane enough to volunteer for this shit after they had been warned of the side effects and treatment they could expect, well, to hell with them! But if someone smart ass was planning on 'recruiting' more people for the NI program... or anything even vaguely similar to it for that matter...
His thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of movement and the sound of a sharp gasp. Cooly looking back up from his handheld, he spied a petite and attractive young lady about his own age press herself against the wall as if something had scared her. The notion of her being attractive quickly vanished from his opinions when Hob's brain finally registered the lab coat she wore. It was the enemy. His one nostril flared as his face fought between grimacing in distaste and snarling in dislike. If there was anything worse than a medico, it was a friendly medico who smiled too warmly, too nicely. It usually led up to being told they wanted something and then them taking it whether he wanted to provide it or not.
Yet... she had called him Hob. If she had called him by any of the other possible variations of his given name, then his distrust of her would have been instantly cemented in place for all eternity. Perversely, that made the NI-tech all the more uncertain as how to deal with her.
Four minutes.
"Yeah, I'm Hob. Let me guess, you're in charge now. Or partially in charge. Or in charge of one part of me but not another. Or you're in charge of one the departments that's in charge of me and mine but not any of the others" He rubbed at his scruffy face and staggered back to his feet. "Well, Ms. Wilkes-Lane, please take a number and get in line. I'd ask what level authority you have over the NI-techs, but I'm pretty sure by now that it would be stupid question since I'm come to the conclusion that everyone has authority over us."
Waving a hand towards the hatchway as though in invitation, he raised an eyebrow. "Come to watch the fun? It's popular entertainment, I've been told. I'm surprised they haven't sold tickets yet. No doubt some enterprising engineer or tech will think to record the whole thing for the sake of both posterity and profit." Hob paused, and an evil laugh burst out suddenly from thin lips. "They could make great bogeymen out of us in a few generations! Just think, all the mothers warning their children to be good least they be stolen away to become NI-techs! Who needs monsters under the bed when they'll have us!"
His handheld chirped an alarm. Two minute warning.
Hob looked towards the hatchway forlornly, dropping his hand dejectedly by his side. "Truth be told? I hope they don't remember us at all."
Hob was readily admit he might just have been paranoid, but the encounter had left him a tad concerned for Connor. If someone was insane enough to volunteer for this shit after they had been warned of the side effects and treatment they could expect, well, to hell with them! But if someone smart ass was planning on 'recruiting' more people for the NI program... or anything even vaguely similar to it for that matter...
His thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of movement and the sound of a sharp gasp. Cooly looking back up from his handheld, he spied a petite and attractive young lady about his own age press herself against the wall as if something had scared her. The notion of her being attractive quickly vanished from his opinions when Hob's brain finally registered the lab coat she wore. It was the enemy. His one nostril flared as his face fought between grimacing in distaste and snarling in dislike. If there was anything worse than a medico, it was a friendly medico who smiled too warmly, too nicely. It usually led up to being told they wanted something and then them taking it whether he wanted to provide it or not.
Yet... she had called him Hob. If she had called him by any of the other possible variations of his given name, then his distrust of her would have been instantly cemented in place for all eternity. Perversely, that made the NI-tech all the more uncertain as how to deal with her.
Four minutes.
"Yeah, I'm Hob. Let me guess, you're in charge now. Or partially in charge. Or in charge of one part of me but not another. Or you're in charge of one the departments that's in charge of me and mine but not any of the others" He rubbed at his scruffy face and staggered back to his feet. "Well, Ms. Wilkes-Lane, please take a number and get in line. I'd ask what level authority you have over the NI-techs, but I'm pretty sure by now that it would be stupid question since I'm come to the conclusion that everyone has authority over us."
Waving a hand towards the hatchway as though in invitation, he raised an eyebrow. "Come to watch the fun? It's popular entertainment, I've been told. I'm surprised they haven't sold tickets yet. No doubt some enterprising engineer or tech will think to record the whole thing for the sake of both posterity and profit." Hob paused, and an evil laugh burst out suddenly from thin lips. "They could make great bogeymen out of us in a few generations! Just think, all the mothers warning their children to be good least they be stolen away to become NI-techs! Who needs monsters under the bed when they'll have us!"
His handheld chirped an alarm. Two minute warning.
Hob looked towards the hatchway forlornly, dropping his hand dejectedly by his side. "Truth be told? I hope they don't remember us at all."
Will try to get a Hob post up later this evening, if I can!
Jack softly squeezed her hand when she mentioned that she had sisters, sisters now lost with the rest of the humanity. Nothing more needed to be said. Who among the crew and the sleepers hadn't lost friends and family? Even his own extended family had suffered, a number of aunt and uncles and cousins and extended relations all lost with Newfoundland; perhaps there might still be some remanent of humanity clinging to life behind them, although Jack didn't truly believe so. More over, he didn't want to believe so. Not that new life on an alien world would be easy by any means, but it would be far easier than a bunch of disorganized hold-outs clinging to hope that would probably never come. And if there were survivors? Survivors who knew that a space ark had carried off most everyone else and left them behind? That was a sort of betrayal he'd rather not think on. Far better to concentrate on the living and wonderful face of Penny as they walked along the catwalks to watch the dolphins play.
When presented with the cookies, Jack actually blushed. "That for me, b'y?! I... I don't right know what to say! God bless yar cotton socks, Penny, this is some nice piece a' stuff!" Finishing one of the cookies out, he sampled it and instantly grinned again. Jack was the sort of man who, while still not yet thirty, was already developing laugh lines about his mouth from smiling so often. He held the package out towards Penny, nudging it towards her to indicate he wished to share the cookies as well as her company and conversation. "Best kind!"
"A loyal woman who waited for her man," he repeated, obviously impressed. "Don't sound like that much of a tragedy to meself. Must have been some man to be worth waiting all dem years, mind you! Ain't seen too many plays, really. Der was dis one... bunch a' folks run off inta da woods an' der's dis Queen in love wit' some fool wit' a donkey head... Can't mind much of it, but I died at it! Funny part were this fella at da end, a Mr. Puck, he came out an' apologized what if we didn't likes what we saw he were real sorry for it, which I t'tought were real polite of him!"
"I'm the only one me parents knit, named for St. John's harbor which in turn were named for that saint fella what went an' lost his head over some duck. We're supposed to be Catholic, but I ain't seen Mass since we left The Rock. Ten years in Wyoming wit' a cousin, fixing t'ings an' the like. You can take the b'y out a' the Bay, but..." Jack left that hanging. Again, another thing that didn't need saying, and he carried his home with him in his own way. "Them what owns me is frozen up solid over in D Section long wit' me uncle's family."
"We're handymen, by trade, I guess you'd say. Need it fixed, call Pumphrey, dey used to say. Didn't matter which one of us, we'd come an' it fix it." Jack went one, telling of how before the crisis Newfoundland had been making something of a economic recovery finally. Only as technology became more intricate and society simply cast off broken goods instead of repairing them, things had gotten worse until they fled for a distant relation's home in the States. "Not the same, Newfoundland to Wyoming. No water, no shores, no seas, everyone talking' like they gots a straw up there nose. Work were fun though. Nuttin' better than getting' year hands dirty an' makin' sumptin' better dan new!"
He glanced her again, having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her face. "Well... almost nuttin' better, b'y."
When presented with the cookies, Jack actually blushed. "That for me, b'y?! I... I don't right know what to say! God bless yar cotton socks, Penny, this is some nice piece a' stuff!" Finishing one of the cookies out, he sampled it and instantly grinned again. Jack was the sort of man who, while still not yet thirty, was already developing laugh lines about his mouth from smiling so often. He held the package out towards Penny, nudging it towards her to indicate he wished to share the cookies as well as her company and conversation. "Best kind!"
"A loyal woman who waited for her man," he repeated, obviously impressed. "Don't sound like that much of a tragedy to meself. Must have been some man to be worth waiting all dem years, mind you! Ain't seen too many plays, really. Der was dis one... bunch a' folks run off inta da woods an' der's dis Queen in love wit' some fool wit' a donkey head... Can't mind much of it, but I died at it! Funny part were this fella at da end, a Mr. Puck, he came out an' apologized what if we didn't likes what we saw he were real sorry for it, which I t'tought were real polite of him!"
"I'm the only one me parents knit, named for St. John's harbor which in turn were named for that saint fella what went an' lost his head over some duck. We're supposed to be Catholic, but I ain't seen Mass since we left The Rock. Ten years in Wyoming wit' a cousin, fixing t'ings an' the like. You can take the b'y out a' the Bay, but..." Jack left that hanging. Again, another thing that didn't need saying, and he carried his home with him in his own way. "Them what owns me is frozen up solid over in D Section long wit' me uncle's family."
"We're handymen, by trade, I guess you'd say. Need it fixed, call Pumphrey, dey used to say. Didn't matter which one of us, we'd come an' it fix it." Jack went one, telling of how before the crisis Newfoundland had been making something of a economic recovery finally. Only as technology became more intricate and society simply cast off broken goods instead of repairing them, things had gotten worse until they fled for a distant relation's home in the States. "Not the same, Newfoundland to Wyoming. No water, no shores, no seas, everyone talking' like they gots a straw up there nose. Work were fun though. Nuttin' better than getting' year hands dirty an' makin' sumptin' better dan new!"
He glanced her again, having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her face. "Well... almost nuttin' better, b'y."
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