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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Mar 23, 2013 8:54:34 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Being new in a large city like Los Angeles didn’t seem to hold any advantage whatsoever. He’d essentially just arrived the day before last, and already he wanted to leave. Of course, sketchy areas and dirty streets weren’t exclusive to the Californian city; he’d been through a decent amount when he travelled to Toronto, and it seemed like any number of major cities and even smaller towns had that street that people told you not to frequent. But unfortunately, being so new, he didn’t know about any of said streets.
Which was probably how he ended up on one in the first place. The narrow street, more like an alley between buildings to get to a bigger road on the other side, seemed to branch off into smaller and smaller niches as he went along. It was similar to a maze, waving in and out like that, and he was fairly sure he lost sight of where he was supposed to be going in the first place. He wanted to be back at his motel, which was in a sketchier area in the first place, but at least it was better than a dirty alleyway.
He was already absently planning his leave in the back of his head as he picked his way along, avoiding the trash strewn about. Los Angeles was fairly nice in the better off areas, but he just didn’t like the big cities. It was his father who seemed to prefer them, even if he ended up on a small reservation on Haida Gwaii. Oskenón:ton was more partial to the smaller places, having grown up in that tiny community. Perhaps he should pay home another visit. How long had it been since he last set foot in his own home?
Oskenón:ton squinted; were those the lights of a larger street, or just the lights from someone’s apartment? He took a step towards them, intending on getting out of there as soon as possible, when he heard another noise down a different way. He paused in his step, glancing down the darkened alley.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Mar 23, 2013 15:09:47 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th.notes: rp swap. Moose had, all things considered, absolutely nothing to do. He'd turned in his paperwork (after a particularly agonizing day), tried to get some work, and inevitably been turned away. He didn't have any options left for the day--really it was just 'sit back and relax', waiting for the shelters to open that night. It was warm enough out that he suspected he might just ignore the shelter and spend time in a park. Shelter beds weren't exactly made for people of his size, but the ground certainly was.
Not having something to do could be particularly dangerous. Moose had a pretty good danger sense, but he knew very little about LA itself. He went everywhere on foot, and he feared very little. Not many people would bother him, considering his size, but that didn't mean he was entirely safe.
He'd been cutting through an ally when they found him--three guys, each maybe half his age, and each of them almost a foot shorter then him. Tough guys, in other words. The kind of guys who'd be eaten up and spat right out back in prison. They had a leg up on him though--because Moose, for so many reasons, wouldn't fight back.
It wasn't that he couldn't (because he could), but the simple fact that if he got involved in a fight, his parole officer was going to have a fit. He'd have to prove it was entirely self defense, and not many people would believe him on that. So when the first punch was thrown, he simply curled a bit, shielding his face and backing against the wall. They were on him like jackals, and all Moose could do was stand there and keep his fleshy parts protected.
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Mar 23, 2013 19:57:19 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. A sense of when he was in danger wasn’t what he was lacking, per se, but a bleeding heart and being much too compassionate was what often went into override mode and kicked his logical sense to the side. Standing in the dark, stuck in an alley in the sketchy part of town, that little instinct wasn’t going to stop nagging him. So when there was a noise in the dark, he turned his head towards it, listening intently.
Realistically, he should’ve just ignored it and walked away. There were plenty of unsavoury folk around here, as well as stray dogs and cats that would’ve made any number of noises. Still, there was that familiar tug in his chest that told him to go check it out, just in case. He couldn’t live with himself if he found out somebody had gotten stabbed and he didn’t do anything about it, after all. His more logical side hadn’t completely lost yet, but was rapidly slipping as he hesitated.
Finally, with a faint breath of anticipation, he turned down the narrow space between the buildings, searching for wherever that laughing, or jeering, now that he was getting closer, was coming from. It was fairly dim, but the city always had lights somewhere or another, and it was never completely dark like it got back at home.
Rounding another corner, he stopped, taking a sharp breath. Someone was there, alright… and the whole situation was definitely not something too pleasant. Oskenón:ton stood there for the whole of perhaps five seconds, before he squared his shoulders. ”Hey!” It wasn’t like he was diving in completely unprepared, anyway. He’d dealt with things like this before, and looked like he was well aware of the type of people that generally lingered in lonely alleyways.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Mar 31, 2013 14:16:16 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: rp swap. Moose knew a whole lot about how tough guys like these acted. Anything could scare them off. They feared consequences, feared running into someone who could call their bluff. Realistically, even attacking him was a risky venture for them. If Moose had stood up to them, even with their extra numbers, they'd have almost certainly tucked tail and ran for it. It was all about looking better then you actually were, and Moose knew exactly how to mess with people who tried that on him.
But he'd never have the chance to do that. Not with the terms of his parole. There were too many chances that things could go wrong, which meant that sucking it up was the best possible situation. He didn't think they'd seriously hurt him--he was built of tougher stuff than that. Some scratches and bruises. Maybe a cracked rib. Nothing really serious, which showed exactly how screwed up Moose's priorities were when it came to bodily harm. If it wasn't life threatening or terribly disabling, it wasn't worth worrying over in his experience.
It was little surprise when the shout drew their attention, and unable to tell who was there (a police officer? a stranger? a friend of the man?) they took off, bolting down the far end of the alley. Moose kept his arms up for a moment before lowering them, not looking up as he assessed his injuries. A few cuts and scrapes, mostly on his arms. A bleeding lip from an early shot they'd got in. They weren't there yet, but he was sore and almost entirely sure his arms were going to be a quilt of bruises in a few hours.
Only then did he straighten up a bit more, letting out a little grunt of pain as he raised to his full height, glancing down the alley at the man.
"Thanks." He called, convinced that was enough. After all, in prison a thanks would have been more than enough--the prison population wasn't big on extensive conversations about how you were feeling.
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Mar 31, 2013 20:11:18 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. He remembered that one time he was mugged while in Vancouver. It was a nicer area, but he supposed he was never completely safe from the more unsavoury folk. It was one of the reasons he felt a bit safer in a small town or village than a big city, and though it wasn’t like it could never happen, it sure felt like it happened less. That time around, it hadn’t been as easy as yelling and getting them to flee with their tails between their legs. He’d ended up in the hospital for a week before he got back out, and then he’d skipped town the second he could get a train ticket.
So in truth, he wasn’t entirely sure why he puffed up so bad and yelled at those three who’d surrounded the man. Wasn’t it supposed to be the opposite? Wasn’t it supposed to be that he didn’t ever want to get involved in something like that again? In a sense, he was just really lucky that they ran off instead of targeting him next. He was sure he was smaller than the man they’d confronted first, and he could tell even in the dimmer light.
Oskenón:ton stopped a couple of steps away from the man, watching where the others had disappeared off to; another dark alley, into another little life or another little world, but he didn’t care. ”Are you alright?” He seemed to completely disregard the thanks that he received; he thought nothing of it. ”Are you hurt?” He had no idea how long they’d been hounding him in the first place, and in the dim light, there was no way he could see all the soon-to-be bruises on his arms. For the time being, he just hoped he hadn’t been stabbed. Concern for a stranger wasn’t exactly uncommon for him.
”We should get you to the police, or something.”
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 1, 2013 15:50:16 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: rp swap. Moose was a bit taken aback when the man approached him. Was he going to start something? If he was, Moose was going to have to book it. Running from so many would just get him hurt more, but running from one guy wouldn't be an issue. He could make it away before he managed to take a swing at him.
Only, apparently, that wasn't what he was doing. No, he was asking questions. Acting concerned. It left Moose a bit off put. He wasn't sure how to deal with it. Concern wasn't exactly something that was a frequent occurrence in prison. In jail, you didn't have time to check in on how other people were doing--especially not if you were someone as large and intimidating as Moose, whose reputation automatically swung to 'imposing and not to be messed with' with no chance of anything else.
He'd kept silent right until the end--right until the police got brought up. He jerked slightly, body tensing in confusion and alarm. No. No police. Not even slightly an option.
"No." He blurted out quickly, before realizing that pretty much anyone was going to want a bit more of an explanation then a 'no'--especially when it was something most people would be eager to do. Even so, it took him several moments to come up with the right words to explain it. Needless to say, he wasn't subtle at all.
"I don't want them gettin' involved. It'll just make trouble and the guys are already gone." Hospitals were right out too--it wasn't that bad to begin with, and he didn't have health insurance. If he went to the hospital, he'd end up in debtor's prison. |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 1, 2013 18:53:30 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Calm. Things would be alright, would it? Yes, of course it would. They may have been in a dark alleyway, out of the way of any true safe place and all that, but they would be alright. The man didn’t seem like he’d do him harm, or at least, not from first impression. Of course he was bigger, but the dim light obscured that scar right across his face, and how muscled he was. For now, Oskenón:ton really only thought that he was a tall guy who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The abrupt no, however, caught him off guard. ”Why not?” He quickly asked, glancing around warily again. It was dark and he was nervous about being in such a place. But the answer came soon enough, even if it was a shaky one at best… It made him think that the man might’ve been a criminal himself? Someone that was wanted by the law? Something like that. Something or some reason he didn’t want the police getting involved with.
”Well… well are you okay, at least? Do you need any help, or something? At least I can take you back to your house, just in case.” It sounded weird, he knew; offering to take a completely stranger back to their house. But if it were a lady, of course he’d try to escort her back to where she was safe; he didn’t quite know why it should’ve been different… only he did, and this was weird, but he’d be doing it anyways. He surely didn’t want the man getting jumped or whatever again.
”I mean… it won’t be a hassle or anything. I don’t mind.” Any sort of help was good, he supposed. He couldn’t just leave him alone like that.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 2, 2013 10:26:11 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: rp swap. Moose was growing more wary by the second. The man had helped him--even if it hadn't been a lot of effort, it had saved him a lot of pain--and was apparently wanting something in return. Walking him home? That just meant whatever he wanted was at home. Only what? He supposed he might want privacy for whatever he was going to ask for. It was common enough. When people wanted something from Moose, there was one thing that inevitably popped up: Protection. Moose was large and intimidating, and only the most serious of attempts were going to go down when the bodyguard or bouncer looked like he could twist you into a pretzel. He wasn't going to stop entire entirely serious assassination attempts, but he would put an end to any harassment or crimes of opportunity.
"I'm alright." He explained with a grunt, reaching up to run his finger along a cut on his forearm. Nope, not too bad at all. He'd be banged up for the next few days, but considering he didn't seem in danger of losing any body parts, he was convinced he'd do just fine.
Even so, the offer to take him back to his house was not a good one. He'd learned his first week out that people didn't like the homeless. It wasn't that they hated them directly, but facing someone who had no place to go was awkward even in the best of situations. There was no nice way to say it--no real way to dance around the point and get across that you didn't have a home. Inevitably, it would reach the point where you had to just say it, and then that would be that.
So Moose went straight to the point. There was zero point for him to beat around the bush, and even if there had been one, he wasn't the sort of person that dealt in subtleties to spare someone's feelings.
"Don't got one. Parks not far from here, I can make it back." It was close enough he sincerely doubted anyone else would try and jump him. If they did... well, he was frustrated enough he might just take a swing at them.
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 3, 2013 19:12:59 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Oskenón:ton was wary, but for an entirely different reason. While the man seemed to be nervous, he only assumed that it was because he’d come just a few seconds away from being stabbed or mugged, and that people tended to get nervous after dangerous situations like that. It was all very normal. Still, even if the man was an utter stranger, Oskenón:ton wasn’t teased endlessly about being a bleeding heart for nothing. He worried about people, especially ones that looked injured – if only a bit – from a recent mugging.
But when the man finally mentioned that he didn’t have a home, and that he’d be going to the park, Oskenón:ton suddenly felt rather awkward. ”…oh.” Well that might explain his wariness, now did it? It made the situation a little more tense than it was a few seconds ago, and he shifted a little on his feet, debating it in his head. He did still feel bad, and finding out he was homeless did make him feel worse.
”Well… if you’d like something to eat, we can go get dinner, or something?” Because if he wasn’t getting him safely home, at least he could make sure he was fed. Yes, he was well aware that his wallet was light the vast majority of the time, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t spare a little. ”I mean, I don’t want to intrude, if you don’t want it.” He could just let him be on his way if he thought the offer was weird. |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 4, 2013 9:24:35 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: super short post. Most people on the streets had some sort of pride that kept them on the streets. They didn't want to take charity or handouts. They wouldn't take things that were offered. Moose wasn't like that. Moose had very little pride, although he did have a healthy dose of suspicion. He would take things that were offered, but only when he was sure that they were actually what was being offered. He didn't want to accept anything and find out that there were strings attached after the fact.
So while the mention of food was enough to make his stomach twist,
he wasn't going to jump right in and take it. No, he needed to make sure what it was--was it just the man being charitable and pitying him? Or was there some ulterior motive that he was missing out on?
"Why? I mean, you're the one who helped me." Which would generally mean that Moose would be buying him dinner--although that wasn't going to happen. Moose couldn't buy himself dinner on most nights. The only food the man would be getting around Moose would be if they both went to a soup kitchen together.
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 4, 2013 19:11:04 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. He probably made the man feel weird, though he did sort of make sense. Oskenón:ton really could’ve just left him be now; being homeless wasn’t exactly his problem. Hell, he was technically homeless himself, having nowhere permanent to stay. He just hopped around from hostel to motel or whatever he could afford on his travels. In some of the more expensive, bigger cities, he couldn’t afford much better than a shelter. Still, even if the man was homeless, he had nearly just gotten mugged and beaten up, and he wasn’t about to just leave him in the state he found him. What if those men came back?
”I… I guess, just because?” He wasn’t sure how to answer that one, to be quite honest. Why did he want to take him to dinner when he had been the one doing him a favour? He didn’t even know this man’s name and he was already inviting him to dinner with him. He didn’t have much money on him, so it wouldn’t be fancy, but…
”Sorry. I’ll just leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I just don’t like leaving people that’re down on their luck.” Which the man definitely was at the moment. Being mugged was bad enough, but being mugged while homeless was just rubbing salt in the wounds, now was it? |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 5, 2013 9:06:02 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: super short post. Just because? He couldn't even think of something better then that? He was apprehensive and perhaps even a shade nervous. After being attacked once, everything else seemed like it was going to be another attack. He probably shouldn't have been as worried as he was--the man hadn't done anything to hurt him--but instincts took effort to replace with rational thought.
Even so, the offer for him to leave, combined with the possibility of a warm meal was enough to sway him. He was fairly confident that if it came down to it, he'd be able to take down and get away. Plus, if things did go well, he'd get food. Real food--not the sort of food you'd get at a shelter.
After a moment of consideration, he gave a little shrug, wiping a bit of blood off his arm.
"Alright. I mean, it's up to you. But if you want I'll go." Which was about as close as he'd get to saying 'yes, a nice meal would be lovely'.
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 6, 2013 19:26:04 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Oskenón:ton wasn’t sure if ‘really wanting’ was the accurate word for it, but he supposed it was as close as it got. Though he was often a bleeding heart who’d run out in the middle of a freeway to get a raccoon off the road, he wouldn’t get in the way of other people’s affairs if they didn’t want it. Saying no once would’ve been enough, and he’d back off and never see him again, probably. Los Angeles was a huge place, after all. There were just some people that you didn’t meet twice, by fate or luck alone, or both. If the man had actually told him no, he would’ve given up without another fuss.
However, he couldn’t really lie when he said he felt a bit more at ease when the man accepted. At least he could get him decently fed before they parted ways. Oskenón:ton nodded slightly, then gestured towards where he thought the exit was. ”Let’s get out of this place, then. I don’t like it.” He’d been to plenty of places worse, but it wasn’t as if that helped his interest any. He just wanted out, back to the main street or something.
He began to walk, taking quick strides and glancing back at the man. ”What’s your name, anyways?” Better get that, at least. He didn’t want to be calling him ‘you’ or ‘that guy’ for the rest of the night, after all, or however long it took to get him at least a little fed… and maybe a bandage on those cuts he had. |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 8, 2013 7:26:54 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: super short post. It was all well and good that he didn't like it, but for Moose, the back alleys and side streets of skid row were all the home he had. They might be leaving right then, off to get some good food, but at the end of the night, Moose would be on his way back, checking for space in one of the shelters. Probably he'd just end up on a park bench, taking up space as he slept through the night. You were allowed to camp in skid row--more or less legally even. No one was going to bother arresting you, at the very least.
Moose rarely managed introductions. They were awkward and strange, and people always wanted to know his real name. To him, Moose was as real as it got. Moose was who he was. Darrin Moore might as well have been a different person entirely, and he tended to get grumpy when people bothered him for his 'real' name. Most tended to accept it when they realized he was homeless, and he was hoping to skip right over that, given the chance.
"Moose." He rumbled, making his way out of the alley as he took the lead. He didn't know where the man wanted to go, but he did know the fastest way out of skid row, and it wouldn't be long before they'd make it out into downtown proper. It wasn't exactly far--and it was even faster when you knew the shortcuts. He walked it every day, after all.
"What about you?" He was genuinely curious, and perhaps a bit confused by the man. He didn't really get him, and he wasn't really sure that he ever would. The whole thing was just beyond him, and he wasn't expecting any real answers. |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 8, 2013 9:07:08 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Part of him was just expecting silence, whether it was awkward or tense. He got a feel that the man just didn’t like to talk, and that was fine with him. Edgy silence was better than brainless chatter any day, and if anything, he could actually appreciate some quiet once in a while, even if it was awkward. Oskenón:ton was taken back a little when the man decided to pull up ahead of him, before he settled, figuring he knew this place a lot better. He’d been in L.A. for just a little over a week, and he didn’t know anything around here aside from the tourist traps that one knew of even before they landed.
”Moose?” He looked over at him incredulously, but it was really more a glance at his back than anything. Well, that was a bit of an odd name, now was it? Probably just a nickname, but he didn’t try to push for his real one. Why should he? There was really no reason, and he wasn’t obligated just because Oskenón:ton would be buying him dinner. At least in his eyes, it didn’t mean much.
Soon enough, they emerged into the downtown area that wasn’t between buildings and up dark alleyways. He couldn’t help but feel a tad relieved, to say the least. ”My name’s Oskenón:ton.” And he was completely expecting the man to butcher the hell out of it, as most people did. He went by a whole lot of nicknames thanks to that, and he had no surname to go by, either.
”So, where do you want to go? I’m fairly new around here, so I don’t know many places.” Really, he’d so far made it by using the hostel kitchen and whatever he could find for cheap at the markets around here. A lot of the money he did make selling his art was used for travel expenses, though food hadn’t been an issue if he knew how to forge properly. It was difficult in a big city, but it could be done. He was entirely expecting Moose, a local, to at least have a fair knowledge of locations. |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 14, 2013 12:47:24 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: super short post. To him, Moose was as real as names got. Other people might have claimed that Moose wasn't his real name, and that he should have been going by Darrin. Only Darrin wasn't him. It might as well not even be his name at all. Darrin was a different person, a person who'd fucked up his life and ended up in prison because of it. Moose was the person who'd had to deal with Darrin's screw up, having to spend what was essentially his entire life in prison. Life outside prison was completely alien to Moose. He may as well have been transported to a different country entirely, and only English was shared with those around him.
When the man introduced himself, Moose abruptly found himself at a loss. Oske... what? Hell, the man hadn't even finished saying his name before Moose found himself lost in it. The whole thing was alien to him. It wasn't even slightly similar to any words he knew, and while he generally would have just chopped off the front part of the name to make a nickname, he had no idea what to do with that. Osk? Osken? What then? He stared at him for a moment before giving a tiny shrug. "No idea how to say that. You got a nickname?" At least he was being honest?
Moose did have some rough ideas of where to get food, and after a moment he jabbed a finger in a set direction. "There's an IHOP just outside of skid row. Pretty good food." He'd never actually eaten there of course, but he'd eaten some of their food out of the dumpster, and they were open pretty late. |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 15, 2013 4:52:04 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Of course he had no idea how to pronounce his name. A lot of people didn’t, and he wouldn’t exactly blame him if he mangled it a little. Asking for a nickname, however, was favourable over having his name turned into something weird. He really did need to think about it for a second; he had a lot of nicknames, and picking one out that he actually liked was a different matter entirely. Settling on just his name translated to English seemed a little boring, but for the time being it should definitely do.
”Well, you can just call me Deer, if you’d like. It’s how my name translates.” And ‘deer’ was a very general, easily pronounceable, one syllable word, anyways. Moose were supposed to be deer too, right? Looked like they had a bit more in common than he thought, even if it was just a name. It helped put Oskenón:ton just a little more at ease as well, which was generally dumb, because Moose still looked like he could murder him right then and there and nobody would really care because it was skid row.
Being under the street lights helped him calm down as well, and when Moose jabbed his finger in a random direction and told him something was that way, he only shrugged and followed along. ”Anywhere is fine. As long as I don’t end up back in the alley or something.” And it saddened him that Moose had to stay out here, but he didn’t let that thought in for the time being. Just buy him a meal, and he’d think about the rest later. There was really nothing he could do, though; he was barely able to afford L.A. himself, and he definitely couldn’t afford too much for another person. |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 17, 2013 15:20:44 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: super short post. Deer? When he first said it, Moose was fairly sure he was making fun of him. Instead, it turned out that it was just a translation--which was a bit over Moose's head, considering he couldn't have even hazarded a guess at what language the name was from. Sometimes he heard weird names and thought they were foreign, only they turned out to be just normal. Like Dick. Who named their kid Dick? How the hell someone got from Richard to Dick flew so far over his head it was singed by the sun.
"Deer it is. I can say that at least." He offered with a shrug. It was fairly easy to say. He'd even seen picture of deer, which he supposed gave it an extra leg up. Another thing to associate with the strange man, who apparently went out of his way to buy food for perfect strangers. The whole thing was just alien to him, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get to wrap his head around it.
Anywhere was fine? Well, that worked for Moose, because the IHOP wasn't far away. They'd hardly been walking for any time at all when it came into view, and he gave it a little nod of his head. "Not exactly the best place in town, but it's pretty good." And it had no real gang activity to speak of, which was always a plus. It was just food--and food was what he needed. |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Apr 17, 2013 19:31:14 GMT -8
tagged: Moose. time: April 25th, 2012. 11pm. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Of course he could say ‘deer’. Everybody knew how to say deer; it was a one syllable word with four letters, and it wasn’t that hard to grasp. He followed along, mostly silent, glancing around quietly, making sure he was aware of his surroundings at the time. He didn’t need to be jumped again, or mugged, and he didn’t need Moose to be mugged again.
At the very least, they both didn’t need to walk for a very long time. Soon enough, there place came into sight, and he tilted his head at it just a little. It was sort of… well, he wasn’t sure. Not the sort of place that he usually went to, but it’d do for such a late time at night and when nothing else was open. He just shrugged at it when Moose pointed it out. ”It’s not a problem.” As long as it wasn’t freakishly expensive, but by the looks of it, then it definitely wasn’t if the neon lights were any sort of indicator.
Making their way inside, he found that it was almost entirely empty. Nobody really came to the place so late at night, he supposed… and definitely not in such a sketchy area. He glanced over at the taller man next to him. ”I… I guess we can take a seat?” He didn’t quite know how this worked, really. Restaurants like this weren’t exactly his thing, and he usually just cooked for himself, anyways. |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Apr 21, 2013 6:59:45 GMT -8
tagged: osken. date: april 25th, 11PM.notes: super short post. If they had been mugged, things would have gone differently. When it was Moose against some thugs, there were no rules or anything. It would be his word against theirs, and it would almost certainly be determined to be a mutual fight. With Deer there, things were different. He'd have a witness (who as far as Moose knew didn't have a criminal background) who'd be able to take Moose's side. He didn't think he'd be thrown back in jail for defending himself, but he was aware that his story would hold no real weight unless there was some other witness. Deer could be that witness for him, and it made him feel a lot less tense, visibly relaxing as they headed towards the IHOP.
Moose had never been into an IHOP, but he had a very, very rough idea of what he was doing. He let out a little 'hmm' noise before scooting over to a nearby booth, sliding in. At least, being built for two people, it had enough room to fit him. He made a little gesture for Deer to grab the seat across from him.
"Pretty sure that they come and ask you what you want sort of deal." He said with a shrug, not entirely sure. He was hungry though, and eager for food. |
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