02-09-2019, 04:15 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Finally, some hospitality! Despite his aloof disposition, Jay is the first person that inattentively talks him down from grabbing the idiot nearest to him and shoving the barrel of the man's gun against his head. when frustrated, he's impulsive, not smart, and he's fully aware if he were to threaten this community, there'd be a slim chance that he were to live. now, there was plenty of of idiotic ways that he nearly died, but he doesn't want to die due to a gunshot. where was the gratification in that?— so right, jay. thanks for that. and it makes sense. even the most clusterfucked southerns had that notable hospitality. he's settled in the home of one before. he wonders how far the man is from home, as he certainly couldn't have been born here, but it was easy to stereotype. Daniel hated the cold and yet, here he was, trembling under four layers of it.
It seems that, even when the world died, good genes didn't go with it. even in all his misery, Daniel is stirred by a pretty face when he sees one, her hair contrasted an bright orange from the white scenery, gently caressing her hair like a crown. Daniel is not oblivious to it— it's familiar; the way she walks, the way she talks, the inviting nature of her eyes. she likes what she sees, and it's not as if the feeling isn't mutual. had circumstances been right, he'd be so narrow-minded to be convinced to join this welcome-committee alone, but there's this pain-staking reminder that she's not Sarah, and flirting with her? it feels wrong. Instead, he simply says, "Nice name, Blake. Fun is a way to put it. Giving up my weapons doesn't seem too fair, though." They wouldn't be the first group to have established this with him and if it were an absolute necessity he'd do as he's told, however it wouldn't go without his input. he rarely felt threatened, even with guns in his face, but what about those who did?
His gaze shifts from Blake, to Jay, landing onto a child who kinda familiarizes him with one he's known once before, if not a little older. what had his name been?— Gilbert. he's seen a few children since that one, and yet none of them ever obtained that same spark that Gilbert did. What was that spark? Trauma. Maybe. Ten years old, and he'd held a baby in a sack, doing best he could despite it's ultimate mortality. Poor kid. He hoped he was okay, wherever he was. Not-Gilbert aims his staff at him, ready to probably-fail at protecting what's his. And then.... and then—
Jesus Christ, there must be something in the frozen water here. Hayley saunters in like she owns this place and very quickly, he learns that she does. Beside her stands a man who doesn't seem convinced by what he sees, but Daniel's attention doesn't linger to her very long. The last woman of authority he'd been around, he'd stargazed with her, then slept with her, passion inflamed by their similar aspirations to what they wanted the Badlands to be. She hadn't been as graceful as who stood before him now, and so with the leader herself right here, he has two obvious options.
"Alright." Heaving a sigh, he starts with his left boot, pulling out a piece of glass he'd kept for safe keeping. then, he reaches in his left, pulling out a pocket knife. Never knew when you'd need that. Next came the gun. Well, guns. Two, where one had been the bastard who stole Sarah while the other had been his. Finally, the one that was strapped on his back, something that couldn't be removed without stripping his backpack. He pulls it slowly over his head as NPCs watch with uncertaintly, tension lingering even after he places it on the ground. "My name is Daniel by the way, wait—" He reaches into his pockets. "Okay, I thought I might have still had something there. But safe to say that I'm clean. Just for you." His eyes linger on Hayley.
It seems that, even when the world died, good genes didn't go with it. even in all his misery, Daniel is stirred by a pretty face when he sees one, her hair contrasted an bright orange from the white scenery, gently caressing her hair like a crown. Daniel is not oblivious to it— it's familiar; the way she walks, the way she talks, the inviting nature of her eyes. she likes what she sees, and it's not as if the feeling isn't mutual. had circumstances been right, he'd be so narrow-minded to be convinced to join this welcome-committee alone, but there's this pain-staking reminder that she's not Sarah, and flirting with her? it feels wrong. Instead, he simply says, "Nice name, Blake. Fun is a way to put it. Giving up my weapons doesn't seem too fair, though." They wouldn't be the first group to have established this with him and if it were an absolute necessity he'd do as he's told, however it wouldn't go without his input. he rarely felt threatened, even with guns in his face, but what about those who did?
His gaze shifts from Blake, to Jay, landing onto a child who kinda familiarizes him with one he's known once before, if not a little older. what had his name been?— Gilbert. he's seen a few children since that one, and yet none of them ever obtained that same spark that Gilbert did. What was that spark? Trauma. Maybe. Ten years old, and he'd held a baby in a sack, doing best he could despite it's ultimate mortality. Poor kid. He hoped he was okay, wherever he was. Not-Gilbert aims his staff at him, ready to probably-fail at protecting what's his. And then.... and then—
Jesus Christ, there must be something in the frozen water here. Hayley saunters in like she owns this place and very quickly, he learns that she does. Beside her stands a man who doesn't seem convinced by what he sees, but Daniel's attention doesn't linger to her very long. The last woman of authority he'd been around, he'd stargazed with her, then slept with her, passion inflamed by their similar aspirations to what they wanted the Badlands to be. She hadn't been as graceful as who stood before him now, and so with the leader herself right here, he has two obvious options.
"Alright." Heaving a sigh, he starts with his left boot, pulling out a piece of glass he'd kept for safe keeping. then, he reaches in his left, pulling out a pocket knife. Never knew when you'd need that. Next came the gun. Well, guns. Two, where one had been the bastard who stole Sarah while the other had been his. Finally, the one that was strapped on his back, something that couldn't be removed without stripping his backpack. He pulls it slowly over his head as NPCs watch with uncertaintly, tension lingering even after he places it on the ground. "My name is Daniel by the way, wait—" He reaches into his pockets. "Okay, I thought I might have still had something there. But safe to say that I'm clean. Just for you." His eyes linger on Hayley.
[align=center][font=arial][I]so, i heard the world doesn't revolve around me /:
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