ArchivedLogs:Gold Stars

Gold Stars
Dramatis Personae Ash, Howl, Jim
In Absentia	2013-08-11 Post Raid Drive Home
Location In a Van, Somewhere between Virginia and NYC
It's a very long trip back to the city. After hauling his ass and a couple others' back to transport, Ash's exhausted and barely awake. He does offer Jim a hug at some point, but as every bit of him is covered in dirt and fake bunny fur, it may not be apparent that it's coming from him. Initially, that's all the interaction he gives, taking a seat near Jim (if possible) for the ride home, and falling asleep with his head against a wall. At another point, someone comes by and pulls off his hood to check that he isn't actually injured, leaving it off as he seems to have been sweating profusely beneath. He's only out for a couple hours, then he stirs, turning to look at his previously captured roommate with a sleepy eyebrow arched in a funny position half way up his head. "Y'alright?" Jim's exit from his prison vehicle had been almost absurdly casual, for all the blood and sweat that had gone into the rescue. A flick of his cigarette at the ground, a quick scan of the surrounding rescue party, he hadn't even asked questions when a dirty bunny had exhausti-hugged him. Just raised up his arms to kind of... let it happen? While frowning over his shoulder at the /messes/ that are Tatters and Flicker. Right. But then there's always more to do, and a lot of ground to cover. He's had questions to answer, tersely, and a lot more to /ask/, equally so. A few backs to clap a hand against and wounded, of course, that need attention. He helps /there/ mostly by not trying to HELP. Good intentions and roads to Hell, and all that. Mostly, he's been sitting out of the way. If sleeping Ash has ended up propped against his sturdy shoulder, Jim hasn't complained. He's been silent. Maybe conversing with Hive. Maybe the cosmos. "Never better," his eyes remain directed across the van interior, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. Why exactly he's wearing a plus-sized school girl skirt is anyone's guess. He doesn't seem bothered by it. Slowly an arm raises to hook around Ash's head in a loose HEADLOCK. Lazy-noogie. "Y'been asleep for hours." "Fucking broke a mountain with my head," Ash explains, bringing up a pair of fuzzy paws to rub at his face. He yawns too. "Could probably sleep a lot more. And Eat. We could ask them to pull over and get ice cream. Could be tradition." He also doesn't bother to pull himself away. Instead, he just leans and lets his hands fall to his lap. "Christ." Ash is released soon enough, "You're a scary little bastard." Jim stoops forward to scrub at his face. He's pulled in his branches, becoming a man mostly of flesh and bone once more. It makes for a better texture to mash his fingers into, dragging them downward, stretching his lower eyelids away from the roundness of his eyeballs in a lethargic monsterface. "Yeah, I uh. Ain't really got a lotta fucking appetite just now." Somewhere near the middle of the truck, is a pile of fluffs and Victorian clothing. Under /that/, is a curled-up fox man who is gradually waking up, with the sound of voices. Howl's /tails/ have a long, teal ribbon intertwined in them, criss-crossing back-and-forth to keep them in line, giving the vague impression of a showhorse. Or show-dog, as the case may be. His skirt was removed - with work pants underneath! - along with the ladies' dress shirt; all that remains of his disguise is his blue headscarf, tied loosely around his neck so that his big, floofy ears can stick out comfortably. So, voices get turned to, and he blearily opens his eyes to squint at Jim, in time to see him transition from tree back into man. "--Oh, it's you." He almost sounds... disappointed? A bit /surprised/, at least, upon recognizing the human form of the 'plant monster'. "Where are we?" "Ah. Well. That's okay. I'll just dream about ice cream." Ash remarks, head tilting back as he watches Jim stretch his face. "You want some fertilizer when we get home? I'm sure we can find a nice place for you to put down roots, maybe in the school, or maybe the apartment, if you want. You could go back the sewers, too." His suggestions are halted when someone starts speaking. "Um." And then a glance out the window. "On the road still." "Kid, I've been doin' nothing /but/ going to ground for..." Jim's hands drop back to his lap, like he's kind of disgusted with them. "However the fuck long it's been." His eyes narrow across the way at (pretty showpony) Howl, "What. You expecting someone else?" In a slow movement, Howl pushes himself up to sitting upright, then up to an awkward sort of squat; tails are brought between his legs, so that he can unfasten that ribbon - which is pretty loose by now /anyway/ - and let tails fly luxurious and free. That done, he crawls into a slightly less crowded part of the vehicle - not that there really /is/ such a thing - and proceeds to. Stretch tails. Little fanning-out movement. And finally answers Jim. "I hadn't seen you as.. not a tree, before. Except for-- we met once. If you'll remember? Perhaps not." "Okay, okay, no going to ground. Maybe going back to work?" Ash looks hopeful, but then curtails the suggestions after Howl begins making his way to the back of the van, his own shoulders needing a bit of a roll after watching Howl's tails stretch. He straightens up a little and pulls some fuzzies off his costume, frowning at the material. "Nrrggggh," Jim drops back his head, thumping it against the wall behind him as he watches Howl smooth out his skirt. "Yeah. Guess I remember. You were out in the park or some shit." He's on full on eloquent mode. "Ash. Kiddo." He says it calmly, evenly, through his /teeth/. "I can't stress enough t'you right now. How much I don't give a flying two-cent FUCK right now." His eyes roll to the side to look Ash over. "You're dressed like a fucking rabbit." Howl gives Jim a slow nod. "Yes. The park. I was living there for a bit, before young Master Anole found me." He pauses, then, frowning a bit. "I suppose now isn't really the time for that." Stretching a little, he curls back up in his new spot, looking back and forth between Jim and Ash. "Do you know," directed at Ash, "if, by any chance, there is any food left that /isn't/ cake-ish? So much sugar." "I... Uh." Ash blinks rapidly, shifting his weight a little to really study Jim's face, his brows furrowing. "You're angry." The realization is dawning on him in the darkness of the moving van. "I..." It takes him a moment to realize that Howl is still talking to him. He shakes his head a little and looks to the betailed one. "No, man. I have no idea. I've been out for hours." He gives him an apologetic look before letting his shoulders sag. "And yes. A rabbit. I was supposed to wear a disguise and I couldn't figure out what to wear and panicked a bit and found this one at Good Will." Jim makes a low grunt, brows hard-furrowed. He's looking at wherever Flicker is being tended. Or maybe through him, to some ivy-laden world of green and dark earth. His scratchy smoker's voice lowers to himself, "All this shit." Sadly, he doesn't seem to be listening to the discussion of baked goods. "Rabbit?" Howl's ears perk up-- and then lower again, once he remembers that, oh yes, Ash is. Dressed as a rabbit. There's a bit of a flush in his cheeks, fortunately /mostly/ hidden by the darkness in the back, and be slowly pushes himself up to crawl again, cautiously over sleeping bodies, in search of the food stash. Digs through, /pleasantly/ surprised to find things that aren't quite so sugary. "Would either of you care for anything while I'm in here?" "Nah. I'm okay," Ash replies, quiet, his energy dropping again. "Might just... go back to sleep." His arms wrap tightly around his torso as he starts slumping back against the wall of the van. "Yeah," Jim exhales, as flat and short as any other thing Jims tend to say. But it doesn't make it any less sincere when he adds, "You've earned it, buddy." Just kind of... raggedly said, as though from a great distance, shaking his head mutely at Howl's offer. "Tss. You both have. Gold fuckin' stars." All around. All of them fucking gold. Sadly, this is about all the conversational investment Jim has to offer. Howl consequently takes Jim's silence on the matter as a second 'no thanks' to Ash's first, and thus, selects a small sandwich for himself! and closes the cooler again. Yet another spot is chosen for laydowns, the sandwich thoughtfully nommed on, and Jim is finally replied to with a gradual, "Think nothing of it." Another chomp, slow chewings, and he draws his floof of tails up and over himself - as much as they'll allow, anyway - and loops one arm around them. Not asleep, but. Quiet time now.