spam; the last journal post

[ukan]

[Getting on board was a moment of chaos. He remembers turning a corner, expecting to find fur and blood in his mouth, expecting maybe to get torn up in return, expecting maybe a bullet from above to take him down, too-

But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]



[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]

Comments

[ukan]

The trick is the same as ever, then: who do you trust to prop you up? Half the wardens here have never known any real struggle. They're kind enough, but too naive to follow.

[Lark doesn't smoke, or drink, not anymore. Vices are not a good thing for a wolf to have.

But Lark is also obsessed with self-control and is constantly finding ways to test himself, so he nods a bit at the pack.]

Have one to spare?

[bleak_midwinter]

Hm. [He taps out another one, and lights it off the end of his own.

He lets out a long, smoke-filled sigh before answering.] Everyone needs a different approach. Someone else might need that.

[ukan]

Possibly. But the inmates I know and care about, I prefer the way they are. And for myself...

[Well, Lark needs something else. He takes a drag, and for a moment he's back in university, watching his friends get drunk and show off.]

Does anyone back home know you've come here? A woman told me time freezes...but it's hard to picture. The world doesn't stop for one person.

[bleak_midwinter]

I'm counting on it doing just that. [He leans back against the railing, closes his eyes. It might not be smart, with Lark around, but the high-strung tension between them has dissipated.]

You don't need to change who you are. Just what you do, and why you do it.

[ukan]

[He nods, frowning to himself. He knows what Tommy's saying is right. It's the same advice, almost verbatim, that he would be giving if their roles were reversed.]

And if someone killed your family and left you for dead, and you were put in prison for wanting to find them- would you be able to let that go and change what you were working toward?

[bleak_midwinter]

[He would blow up that prison and the whole city, house by house, until he found them. But Lark doesn't need to know that.]

D'you believe that that, of itself, is what would put you in here?

[ukan]

[He has a suspicion about that. Being a pack animal gives you certain instincts about who does and who doesn't value family. But he keeps that bit to himself.]

It would never put me in a normal prison, no. But the Admiral isn't human so who knows? Maybe all of this is his way of pushing arbitrary alien laws on other worlds.

The fact is, that was the last thing I was doing before I woke up here. And it was what I'd spent a lot of time preparing for, so I have to assume it's at least a chunk of the reason he brought me here.

[bleak_midwinter]

[he doesn't mind people knowing: his family is why he does anything and everything, and even if it's a weakness back home he can't bring himself to let go of that.

He snorts a little at the suggestion, taps some ash off the end of his cigarette.]

When we assume...

[ukan]

[He bites back a smile]

Please. That old adage is for people who get too attached to their theories, or can't admit when they're wrong.

[bleak_midwinter]

[He doesn't even reply to this, just raises an eyebrow and inhales on his cigarette, deeply.]

[ukan]

[Lark shoots him a look, half amused, half 'I want to roll my eyes']

I was wrong about you.

[bleak_midwinter]

Have you decided to accept that I'm just a shy little boy, after all?

[ukan]

Why? Were you assuming I hadn't already accepted that, Tommy?

[bleak_midwinter]

Well, even honest people get mistrusted. You're a very dangerous inmate, aren't you?

[He honestly does think he might be-- but he also doesn't really care.]

[ukan]

No.

[Not at this specific moment in time he's not. It's easy to lie when you're really telling a very, very specific truth.]

No more than you are. Victor Creed is what I would call dangerous at least 60% of the time. My little friend, Nux: he could be dangerous.

I wouldn't hurt a fly.

[bleak_midwinter]

You should. They can be a right pest if you let them be. [Which is to say: he doesn't believe that for a second. Tommy is dangerous, even when right now he's only smoking a cigarette. These things change, and they change quickly.]

[ukan]

Most pests aren't worth the energy. Wait a few minutes and someone with less patience will spend their time tracking it down for you.

[His cigarette has been smoked down far enough that the cherry is just shy of burning his fingers, so Lark flicks it over the side]

What does a shy boy do when he's not smoking?

[bleak_midwinter]

[He smiles at that, short and sweet, then looks down at the ground when he crushes his own butt beneath his heel.]

Read books, I suppose. Take long walks along the river. Pray.

[ukan]

[The thing is, Tommy probably does. Maybe not pray, but you never know. He's from an odd time, judging by his clothes.]

No darts? No cards?

[bleak_midwinter]

[Tommy hasn't prayed in years, but he does walk along the river when he needs to inspect his smuggled wares and the occasional stolen armory.]

Oh, cards are of the devil, Mr. Lark.

[ukan]

So are a lot of your vices, Tommy.

Why not add one more?

[bleak_midwinter]

[He smiles a little, still looking down at his boots.]

And what vice would you have me pick up? Cards, or something else?

[ukan]

[There's something comical about all of this that Lark can't quite put a name to.]

Well cards is probably a better fit for you around here than prostitution or bootlegging.

[bleak_midwinter]

I leave the bootlegging to the Americans, and the prostitution to women.

Cards it is, then. Show me your wicked ways.

[ukan]

[He pushes off the railing to lead him to his cabin first to get the cards; from there he plans to take them to the bar, where it's at least semi-neutral ground.]