Saints without sparks (Ch. 2: Day 7, pt. II)

Mie · Posted: Thu Jan 13, 2011 2:42 am

Jam cast a few bored glances around the area as with the departure of the cleanup crew, the night officially wound down. Her distant expression soured slightly as an evidently unpleasant thought flickered through her head; she was sufficiently distracted enough to start just a little when seemingly out of nowhere, Rock was peering discerningly into her face.

"What?" she asked, her brow creasing in confusion amid a series of rapid blinks. Her lips silently repeated the words, "don't feel up to it," and understanding came soon after with a blurted, "Oh, that," and a swift shake of her head.

"It's no big," she assured with a wave of her hand. "Seriously, I'm good to go. What're you wanting to look for?"

psikeout · Posted: Thu Jan 13, 2011 3:03 am

Rock gave her a very intent stare for a moment, before ultimately deciding to agree she was okay. He finally stepped back, turned, and started heading toward the building. "Any clue what we might be up against," he answered, looking up the height of the derelict office tower. (He winced when he tilted his head back too far; his grenade-punched stomach didn't yet appreciate an overly upright posture.) "Any clue what happened before we got here. While we're at it, maybe you can fill me in on what happened."

Mie · Posted: Thu Jan 13, 2011 3:57 am

With valid, but still guarded reason, focus was a far cry from Jam's restless thoughts at that moment. Absently, she took a step or two when Rock did, stopping just behind him, as she followed him in an almost automated manner. The paler primate's answers to her question tumbled around meaninglessly inside her head vying for significance among the image of a human boy and nearly obsessive retention of ordinarily negligible details about him. Everything came to a grinding halt, when, with an otherwise perfectly innocuous question, the bottom dropped out of the simian girl's fit-to-bursting head.

"Uh...," she replied ever so eloquently. She cast a look of muddled consideration, exhaustion, and apprehension to Rock, holding a silent eye contact for a solid ten or fifteen seconds before deflating with a sigh.

"Yeah," she said at last, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers compulsively against them. "Yeah, I can, but it'll prolly just piss you off, too..."

Saints without sparks (Ch. 2: Day 7, pt. II)

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