Lay me down on a bed of roses

[indirectcause]

Who: Ben and YOU!
What: Arriving in Paradisa
When: 28th
Where: Lobby
Rating: PG13 kid has a mouth. Here be your spoiler warning for the game.


[Ben had never really thought much about how fast it takes for a bullet to do its work. Not until he needed it to, anyway. He'd heard the shot, but after that, nothing. It went fast, really fast. There was a vague feeling of gratitude as Kenny pulled the trigger, giving him a mercy he knew he didn't deserve from the man. He'd surrendered to the blackness willingly, no longer a burden to the ever smaller mish-mash of humanity that was their group.

The blackness doesn't last, and that's when he appears on the floor of the lobby of Paradisa, his letterman jacket covered in blood. His blood. Walker's blood. It's a mix, really. He takes in a panicked gasp, scrabbling at the floor and looking around in sheer panic. The alleyway is gone. The walkers are gone. So are Kenny and Lee. ...The pain too.

He glances down at his stomach, the metal that had been sticking out there, a final, horrible promise that he wasn't getting out of that alley is missing. His hand automatically goes to his head, his hair matted with blood (definitely all his own this time) but no hole. Did Kenny miss? He couldn't have. He brings his hand back down to stare at the blood for a moment, before turning to glance around him again, looking for any signs of life.

He's definitely not in Georgia any more]

What the fuck is going on?

Comments

[hard_talker]

There's stuff for sandwiches, too, f'you're hungry. [he pushes the door open and crosses to dump the cans and the towel in the trash, then cracks the fridge open for round two]

And this is gonna sound weird, I know - but if you don't see anything you like, you can wish for it.

[indirectcause]

I haven't eaten in [how long has it been? The candy Chuck gave him, he thinks] a long time.

[He glances around the kitchen, wow, look at it so pristine, so safe. It didn't feel right any more] People wish for things all the time, doesn't mean it comes true.

[hard_talker]

[he watches with a tiny secret smile, like watching a kid open their first ever present, or watching a puppy discover snow]. Try it anyway.

[indirectcause]

[Ben casts him a sardonic look. If he could wish for anything, it would be that the walkers never happened. That whatever the fuck is in their systems didn't get there. That the people who are dead now never had to die.

He doubts this is a big wish deal, though, so he lets out a steady breath]

Fine. [Let's humour the possibly crazy person just in case he has crazy friends] I wish for a Clark Bar.

[And there's one in his hand, he yelps, tossing it away from him like it was on fire]

What the fuck?!!!

[hard_talker]

See? [he picks it up and holds it out]. It doesn't work on big stuff like world peace, or goin' home, or weapons. But food and clothes, stuff you need every day? That is totally a thing. .... And there are some people here from places where other magic is real, too. Fair warning.

[indirectcause]

[He stares at it for a moment, before cautiously taking it again, turning it in his hands, examining it. It was real, alight]

...Are you trying to tell me there are people here not from Earth?

[Or possibly from the insane asylum. But this was magic, so...yeah sure, okay. He can live with that for now. He opens the bar to peer at the chocolate ascertaining that it is both real and not made of meat.

You ever see a person inhale a chocolate bar, Mark? Because that's pretty much what has just happened. It looks like chewing goes out of fashion when you're dealing with a zombie apocalypse]

[hard_talker]

Not tryin' to, just told. ... Here. [he holds out a fresh Pepsi. he's not gonna tell a starving dude to slow down, he can recognize a priority when he sees one....but he can at least provide something to wash it down with]

[indirectcause]

[He nods in lieu of gratitude, guzzling the drink down, that vanishes in a pretty short space of time too. Well, if it's bad to each food on a recently magically healed stomach, he's about to learn.

Nothing terrible seems to happen, though, so he lets out a sigh]

Thanks. I needed that.

[hard_talker]

Hey, no problem. You want like a sandwich or somethin'? I think I saw chicken salad in here earlier.

[and with that he proceeds to do his best penguin imitation and stick his head in the fridge, doop doop. while he's hunting:]

Anyway, yeah, people get pulled from all kinds of places and times and end up here. One of my best friends is a ninja, another one's an honest-to-god wizard whose boyfriend is a warrior prince with pointy elf ears ... it's all really fuckin' insane at first. The trick is to keep talkin' to people about it so your head doesn't explode.

[indirectcause]

That would actually be pretty great. [He doesn't know how, but he knows he needs to find his group. Maybe get some of these supplies to them. He nods a little folding his arms, half listening to Mark and half paying attention to his surroundings, watching the shadows, the doors]

A couple of months ago, I'd of called bullshit on you. Things change, I guess. [Really, what ISN'T possible any more?] But yeah, I get it. People need people.

[hard_talker]

Just like I woulda called it on you and Daryl about the walkers, exactly. Expose a guy to enough fucked up shit and it turns out he'll roll with just about anything. [picking up a loaf of bread, he waves it emphatically before ducking back into the fridge for the chicken salad].

The real measure of people here, I think, isn't how much people get surprised by what happens, but whether or not they let it just roll over 'em; how much they give a damn.

[indirectcause]

[Ben makes a tired, cynical sort of sound, resting his elbows on the table]

Yeah, well. When you've spent the last four months trying not to be eaten alive by dead people, you tend to deal with weirdness a lot better. It's either learn to do that or...well.

[Still, that's an interesting point] I guess it must be harder for people from quiet, normal lives to just deal with all this crazy magic shit.

[hard_talker]

That's an understatement ... Like I said, my first couple months here? Complete basket case. The only thing that really saved my ass was that I found a way to keep doin' my radio show. [pardon him while he throws this sandwich together...]

[indirectcause]

You do a radio show here? And heck, that's understandable, if you're just thrown into chaos right away, it's not anything we're really taught to expect, right?

[He's STILL not sure how he survived the first few days, back home, he'd sure wavered close to 'basket case' at times. Maybe it was the vain hope that he might get out and see his family, or maybe Travis just irritated him into keeping on. It's hard to pinpoint it]

[hard_talker]

Yep, every Monday night. I figured I might as well keep it up, so people know what's going on. I raid the.music room, play a little music, tell people about who's new and stuff. Sometimes I get up on my soapbox and yell a little about shit that pisses me off, that sorta thing. [he finishes the sandwich and sticks it on a paper plate]. Here, I even used the fine china.

[indirectcause]

Sounds about as good way to spend a monday night as any.

[He manages a thin smile, which is probably about as good as Mark could hope from him for a little while] Only the best of the best, huh?

[Still, starvation is still a thing, so he'll chow down on that sandwich. Food, he missed you so much. Never break up with him again]

[hard_talker]

Keeps me busy. Plus, I usually know what's goin' on, which comes in handy once in a while. It's good to know who's good at what whenever the shit hits the fan, here.

[while Ben's eating, he'll just rummage in the cupboards and find a bag of chips, too. and some pickles. because if there's one thing his mom taught him, it's that the first thing you do when friends show up is say "here, have food". and he hasn't had someone his own age and gender to hang with in eons. he's doing to do everything he can to make sure this guy likes him. a little self-conscious? maybe. a little over-eager? perhaps. but this is Important]

[indirectcause]

I can get that. Having someone be useful at something can mean life or death in some situations. [A pause] So long as they don't end up having personality clashes, anyway. That's always a thing.

[Feeding Ben sure is a good step towards him liking you. Honestly, though, after spending the past buttfuck who knows how long with adults and a nine year old girl, he's missed having a guy his own age to hang out with too. The last one got eaten alive, after all. Still, Ben knows the over-eager self-concious dance, so he offers Mark an appreciate smile]

Thanks for the food, man. I appreciate it.

[hard_talker]

Something tells me you'll be just fine in ol' Wonderfuck. [he pulls up a chair]. Let's see, what else comes with the basic lodging package.... We got the wishes down, and the different people... Oh, right. Everything can change, whenever this place wants, however it wants.... But there's usually a break in between stuff.

[indirectcause]

[He'll pause in the important task of eating to arch an eyebrow. That doesn't sound good, bro. It really doesn't] Seriously anything? Like 'suddenly you're in Egypt' anything?

[hard_talker]

Yep. Well.... We haven't actually done Egypt yet, but my boss thought she was the goddess Isis, once. That wasn't pretty.

[indirectcause]

And the castle did that to her? So it can mess with our heads, too?

[hard_talker]

Yeah. [he stretches out in the chair and contemplates the ceiling, squinting] It doesn't do that as often as it changes people into other shit, though. I've been a toy twice.

[indirectcause]

[Staring for a moment, don't mind him]

What sort of toy?

[Because apparently that's important]

[hard_talker]

Once, me and my girlfriend were these little cutesy plastic ones ... [he rolls his eyes] ... but the first time, I got turned into a wind-up toy I had on my desk at home. [that one gets a smirk] One of those obnoxious hopping ones, with the feet. Only, it was a dick. Just a dick. With feet.