Cleaning crew

[Eden Jones]

Distracted by event planning, Eden is drawn back into the conversation by the mention of her name. She listens quietly for a while, smiling wryly when Blue refers to her purported social skills. A few times she looks like she might say something, but refrains, preferring to let Blue and Sally steer the topic where they needed it to go. When Blue expounds on horror movie roles, she laughs softly and shakes her head.

"I'll leave widget-getting to the more nimble among us like Nick Sleet or Aurora. I think I'd be more likely to try and have a conversation with the fiendish villain, either outwitting him or getting sliced up for my troubles, depending on how dark the movie was. If we're facing something mindless, I'd probably be the one who tries to keep the group working together despite clashing personalities, then dies tragically, thus inspiring the remaining folk to do something sensible for a change."

Looking around the room, Eden's gaze pauses on Lou, "My money's on Lou to make it to the end of the movie. He's smart, practical, and has the ability to fly below everyone's radar." She grins at Dallas, "Alas, you'd probably die heroically as well, dragging yourself with your one remaining limb to save someone's life, and then they'd name their kid after you in gratitude.

"Speaking of movies, I think a movie night could be a fun thing for people to do around here. Dallas is right that a book club would require everyone to have their own copy, which would be tricky. But sitting around eating popcorn and making snarky comments at the screen sounds do-able."

She sighs with mock wistfulness. "I do still want to have that dessert contest, though..."

[PoeticJustice]

Alice listened to Dallas's explanation, studying her face curious. As she spoke on hope, Alice's head snapped over to Sally, fixating on his chest. Her brow furrowed and she looked down into her hands, which were shaking faintly.

A few inhales and exhales and another pleading expression to Sally, which only rewarded her with a thumbs up. That, if nothing else, seemed to bolster her some, even if her immediate response was to give an exasperated sigh. She chewed into her lip some, rubbing the back of her arm along her forehead and smearing some blood there.

"I'd like that," she said finally to Dallas. "It sounds.... like the sort of story I would enjoy..."

She looked back towards Eden and Lou, struggling to force herself to engage. "Do, um, either of you have a favorite subset of books?"

And then a book was sailing towards her. Those who knew her from Quarantine might expect a far more violent reaction than the one that comes. She reaches out a hand without really looking over. The book is grabbed up as it skids across the floor. Without skipping a beat, Alice turned the book over in her hands and started reading the back cover.

[Sally]

Sally nods along, "Well, if iss any con-so-lation, I ain't much one fer labels, neither. Ya is what ya is." He is strangely firm on this point for the moment, before slipping back to his usual enthusiasm, "Gray squirrels, fer certain. Maybe I'll make me a Critter Pot Pie for that thar pic-a-nick they's workin' on," he nods over to where the other group is still chatting away.

Ever the good little soldier, Sally does as instructed and douses the stains in peroxide so that the fizz can get to its job. He starts to say "Deal!" but the Liberty Train has started along the Blue Track.

At the mention of the genres, Sally looks about the room, both to those in the AAA, and to those elsewhere. They'd all been piled in there together at some point, and it's hard not to have already carved up the diner as "The Hanley Halfway House" "Rev. Thompson's Crew" "Them Ross Boys" "Dr. Zinc's Station" "McGregor" and so on. How many faces, the folks shoulder-to-shoulder sharing popcorn and chili and kicking by the jukebox...

"Lotta folks here that ain't made of ol' boot leather, ain't schooled in the ways of scrapin' by," he says with a nod. "Shit, and there's jus' as many that is schooled in gettin' theyself by, but not lendin' a hand to no one else." He looks over to Lou. How many men- real stand up types, could they count on to charge into the dark like he did, swingin' for the fences with that pole-ax hedge trimmer of his? No amount of cy-bernetics or big guns or big crosses could replace the spot in a man- in a damn lil' chickadee- where grit came from. True, honest to the heavens grit.

"It makes a helluva lotta sense there, Lib, it sure do," Sally says. He'd run smack dab into this situation a time or two (or three...) before, both in Afghanistan and after, with the the Walker & Gray Crew.

"I can't deny your a-ssess-ment, the fact that I done lived this long is more a testament to the folks 'round me than misself, given my penchant for trouble." He seemed to be purposefully ignoring what had been the clear stops of his heart and ceasing of brain functions that had gone on numerous times Friday night. "Some a' us," he grins up at liberty, and glances yonder to Alice, "we ain't meant for gray hairs. I don't know much 'bout no heroes, but man-a-live, I like the sound of makin' the other guy feel it on the way out." He smiles, all the same.

"All the same, I think you got the right cut of how this plays out fer some of her fellow Out of Towners," Sally says. He doesn't seem to find this a single bit silly, his brow furrowing into serious consideration. "It's always some little lass at the end, right? Somebody unassumin' that find they made of tougher stuff than they thought? They the ones that out smarts- out hearts- and out ax-in-the-faces the Bogeyman, right? Well, that right there sounds like Kelsey Graham, if ya ask me. That's a girl that makes it through, and with good golldarn reason." Some true grit.

"And her pard, ol' Slippery Nick Sleet, I think he slides through. He seems like a man that ken adapt, mebbe learn a thing or two along the way. Him an' ol Henry Gondorff. Stick a straw tween they teeth and let the Hand of God guide they way."

He grimaces some, "My own pard, Cora Grey, she's got steel in her spine and ice water in her veins, but that don't get you to the end of a mess like all that. Some folks don't wanna just hurt the otha side, they want to drop a city bus on 'em and make sure they stop twitchin', at whateva cost. Tha's Cora, all-right."

He shakes away the grimace, "But, that bit 'bout us changin' as we go. You seen anybody else change, fer better er worse?"

He looks over to Alice, Eden, Dallas, and Lou, hands moving as they discuss the festivities, and smiles. It's a smile fades after a moment.

For better or worse.

He starts to swipe away at the peroxide-soaked stains, hoping Liberty will start up another charge at the Truth of the Matter.

[ronfiction]

Lou laughs loudly at the mention of him 'making it to the end of the movie.' He was always told by his brother and mother that he was foolish some times, charging off as he did. But then again, he did have his lucky red shirt.

"Of course I would make it to the end of the movie, I have my lucky red shirt. I've been in so many rough spots only to come out alive somehow thanks to this bad boy."

Lou said and touched his red shirt.

"But I never watched many horror flicks, not one for tv."

He said, also leaving out the fact that his family could never afford one.

"But who needs it when you live in a place this exciting."

He said and looked over to liberty. Her conversation about physic powers had started to make him uncomfortable so he stood up and picked up his broom again.

"Sally man; whatever you don't get to I'll take care of it later. Also, try not to dump out too much bloody water around here. Who knows what it may attract."

[Heather N]

Dallas stood there quietly listening to people talking about roles and how they play out in the movie. The whole point of those horror movies was that they were fictional stories from someones vivid imagination; at least she thought that was what they were. This place was making her begin to question it. She had seen her fair share of murder scenes while on the job, but it was never anything out of the normal. It was becoming harder and harder to rationalize things. She rubbed the side of her arm as she looked away from them for a moment. She couldn't help be think about Henry and his strange death. Could it of been some sort of supernatural things? Did he know more about these things that she did? Why would he have kept something like that from her? Taking a deep breath she forced a smile back and looked back over to them.

"Well, if I am doing my job right, you should all make it out just fine. Especially because unlike those movies there really isn't an ending to this story. We really can't tell who would do what in what situation until the time comes to it. Even if your... psychic...?" She felt awkward trying to actually use that as a truth. She quickly tried to change the subject.

"Movie night, cook outs, food contest, and possibly a sport. It would be interesting to have a friendly athletic competitive for the more active folks. What would be something people would want to play?"

[PoeticJustice]

Alice smiled, legitimately smiled, closing the goosebumps book and slipping over towards Sally. He got a gentle nudge with her elbow, looking up at him as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Midnight snow baseball?" she said with a mischievous grin on her face. The gesture was... natural. Human. Completely comfortable in a way that most of Alice's mannerisms could never quite manage to be. It was also, to the perceptive eyes, perhaps one of the first times anyone had ever seen Alice willingly offer physical contact to anyone she wasn't dragging out of an active combat zone.

[kimp]

:: Liberty reaches into the side pocket of her pants and pulls out her mala beads. Staring into space, she works about halfway around the cycle before stopping and raising her tented fingers to her mouth, the beads draped over the v of them. Still staring forward, she heaves a sigh and then says ::
I am not one for politic answers. And, yet, I know what I shouldn't say.

:: She closes her eyes a moment, lowers her hands, and turns to look directly at Sally ::
I think that... yes... I think that the fact that you can hold and use that big knife is a sign of a change in you. I think that by saying that I may not be doing you a service. Yet, by not saying it...

:: She shrugs, rolls her eyes upwards ::
Here is what I think, colored by my own experiences I admit. There are people out there in the world that will seek to break you, then put you back together in a way that suits them. And, there are times, many times, that you can't stop them from breaking you. Because they are stronger or they get lucky or... a million other things. You can't get bogged down in the why or the what did I do wrong? How could I have stopped it? Getting trapped in the victim box that they shoved you into.

:: As she warms to the topic she starts to gesture with her hands in emphasis, the beads clacking where they hang from her circling right hand ::
These things... they are the wrong things to focus on. What you have to focus on in a situation like that, and after a situation like that, is spitting in their eye. They are trying to make you into something. Well, they can break you, but they can't make you. That's where you have to put your energy, into defying their will.

:: She pauses for a moment, takes a breath, then says :: And here is the thing that really bites you. You will be better for what they did to you. You will be stronger. And more capable. But, you do not have to put that strength to the purpose they dictate. You spit in their eye. They break your jaw. You lift your head and you spit in their eye again. Everything they do to you, you keep that core of who you are. You may adapt and change based on what outside forces affect you, but always its what is inside of you - that you dictate - that is what matters.

:: Her movements jerky, hesitant, new, she reaches out and grabs his arm ::
Please. I don't...
:: She stops. Takes a breath. Starts ::
I wanted to skirt this. Let you come off the ledge on your own. It is your experience, not mine, and I'm not going to tell you how to process it.

:: She drops her hand. Looks down ::
But... it's okay to get broken. You couldn't stop yourself from being broken. And you may not be able to stop it again. Just, if you need someone to stand by and bear witness as you put yourself back together, or you need someone to defend you when you are putting yourself back together, I think there are a number of us that will be there. For that.
:: She looked up. Bit her lip ::
Yeah. I don't really understand this whole interaction thing and I may be overstepping. So, if I am, tell me to back off.
:: she rolls her eyes ::
I mean.... I probably won't but... Yeah...
:: She shrugged. Trailed off ::

So, squirrel-pie, you say. Sounds...
:: she curled her lip ::
I've eaten some weird things but... squirrel-pie? You couldn't find any dirt to eat?

:: Her grin doesn't meet her eyes and her gaze remains steady on Sally's face, gauging his reaction to her earlier statements ::

[PoeticJustice]

Liberty's words drained the humanity out of Alice, turning her motions robotic and forced. She pulled her arm back from Sally as if she'd been burned. She looked down at the floor, at the pillar, at the bag in her lap, at the book he'd tossed to her. She blinked, once, twice. She swallowed once and then swiftly stared down at her own hands, stained pink.

With a smile that was so fake it was almost painful, she pushed herself to her feet, slinging her bag up over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I, uh, forgot something up at the house," she lied poorly, bowing her head before she retreated towards the door, grabbing her bat up on the way.

[Sally]

"Yeah, I ain't had no Teevee er nothin', but there was a Drive-in down in Harlan proper, an' you can pile all sortsa scabby-kneed hillbillies in a trunk er two," he shakes his head some, a fond smile ghosting across his face for a moment, "But most of 'em, I saw on base in the 'Stan. Errybody and they brother had all sortsa Dee-Vee-Dees on they com-puters an' such. I ain't never seen so much stuff on at once in my life, to be honest."

"I jus' wanna make sure I didn't stain nothin' too bad," he says, "But tha's a good call, Lou, grease and blood do not a good mix make, in terms of 'voidin' whatever be stalkin' through them thar woods. I'll take it out ta one of tha' johns and flush it," he says, nodding along. Lou had a damn fine point- and a good number of things in the greater Whisper Hill area had gotten a taste for human- not to mention for Sally himself.

"I don' suppose anybody wants to do no boxin', givin' how much scrappin' we do..." his voice fades some, and he looks to his dirty hands, "But I'm all fer some Midnight Baseball, be they snow er not," his grin spreads wide for Alice, as the idea of Mason Fell on the mound is too much to pass up. Boston boys love they stickball, after all.

He flicks a lock of Alice's hair out of her face before looking over to Dallas, "EMTs n' Firefighters n' Cops is always doin' softball leagues. You ever on one?"

When Liberty starts up, Sally's hands drop to his side, his fingers curling and uncurling into tight fists, white knuckles standing out in the suds. The odd girl ain't wrong, of course, but that don't make it no more easy to hear, all the same. He'd already gotten a right earful of it from Fell- in no uncertain terms and with implications like 'If that had been a demon, and you'd given into temptation?'- and the whispers hadn't exactly escaped him from 'round town.

Sally'd lived in a one-horse town for the first 20 years of his life before that judge shipped him off to Parris Island to get his head shaved, and he knew all about how no shame stayed secret in a small town. Stink stayed on you for years in the small pond.

He gave in. He broke. He made a deal. However they said it.

Oh, sure, he'd put up a right fight to start. Given the Butch the what for, all piss-and-vinegar and bravado. Challenged him, egged him on.

And then the cutting started. Real cutting. Not like the little razor slices the Taliban's black-hooded needlers like to do. Flesh by the pound.

And he'd fought on, still. Like a badger with itss leg caught in a trap, he snapped and snarled and even tried to get up and sock that big sumbitch a time or two. For a moment, he'd seen a bit of confusion at that- maybe he'd imagined it, it's not like you could see that Thing's eyes after all- and then the tip of that knife had gone right through his belly in response.

Somewhere in there, the tenor of the crowd- Christ Alive, a fucking crowd of onlookers watched him writhe and grunt on that table and saw what his insides looked like- had changed.

Listening to Liberty's words, Sally stays quiet, his jaw set, until the woman winds down some.

"I, I ain't one to get bogged down in much of nothin'," he says, "An' they's a judge in Harlan County- an' a football coach, an' a sheriff 'er two, an' some boys' mamas an' a few girls' daddies that'll tell you all 'bout how Sally Lautner might have a prollum er two doin' what ya want him ta if he don't wanna do it. An' I guarantee you, those folks might say that with a cer-tain amounta ex-as-per-ation. An' more than a few of them was the ones to post my bail," he says this, lifting his chin with a certain measure of pride in that fact.

Sally looks down to Liberty's hand on his arm for a moment, and then reaches up and pats her knuckles there, "I... I right appreciate the sent-i-ment in that, Ms. Blue. An', I hope we all ex-tend that courtesy to one 'nother as this go gets rough... an' when it ain't so rough, either. Tha's the only way we goin' make it- is the only way these folks here made it so long- each otha."

As Alice scrambles for the door, Sally whistles after her and says, "Well, if you goin' on back to Numba 5, be a darlin', would ya Chickadee, an 'see to this?"

Sally reaches down to his holster, flips the flap back and underhand tosses Wynona towards the girl- the lacquered revolver making a slow arc across the way.

"I wouldn' wan' do somethin' stupid like get per-ox-ide all over that fine finish, would I? An', it ain't like I need it here in the AAA, right? Good folk all 'round. Though, if I give a holler, ya might wanna bring it with that bat 'a yers. Midnight Snow Baseball, er Pre Dawn Skeet Shootin', whatever the oc-casion might be."

Sally doesn't mention the Big Knife at all, or what it implies, but with a shake of his head, that big dopey grin is back, "An' I'll have you know, Ms. Liberty Blue, that Squirrel Pot Pie is a fiiiiiine del-ic-acy where I come from. The dirt, as one might ex-pect, got one too many parts a coal-dust in it to make fer good eaten. But the Critters..."

With one more look to Alice, his gun hopefully in her hands, Sally will turn his back to the girl, so that it's just her and a gun between he and the door. No armor. No arms. Looking to Dallas and Lou and Eden and Liberty, he'll say,

"Jus' no more fuckin' Hot Sauce challenges, all'right? Jay-sus, I was guzzlin' milk fer four hours after that, tryin' to stop tha burn..."

[PoeticJustice]

His voice called her back, it always did, and she stopped and looked back at him for a moment. As she saw him pulling the gun, her brow furrowed and she turned on reflex, swiftly switching the bat to her left hand to catch the gun with her right. She instinctively checked to see if it was cocked, fully expecting it to be. As she did, a memory fragment crossed her eyes.

Demons on all sides, pressing in. She was dancing with the devil, but feeling her arms shake with exhaustion. Had to pull back, but they were still coming from all sides. Where was her gun? Oh right, in some book's hands. She was crying his name, and the name of the pistol. Without missing a beat, he'd pulled it out of the holster and tossed it to her. In one smooth motion she'd dropped the pipe and grabbed it, finding it already cocked and putting a bullet through the chest of the demon that had the misfortune to be rushing her. It slumped and she turned, drawing down on another. And another. Until she heard a familiar clicking sound. But even then, he was on her shoulder, blasting the bastards straight back to Hell to give her a chance to reload, pulling rounds out of his belt pouch to do so.

"Got ya covered, chickadee..."

She shook her head violently, wincing as one hand went up to her temple, fingers curling into a fist. Her face contorted in an expression of pain that she tried and failed to swallow. But she didn't run. She kept her feet planted solidly against the floor, grounded, and that made this time different than the last hundred.

It didn't take her long to come out of it, but it was a process one could watch happening, the girl scaling her way back up the rabbit hole, anchored by the pretty pink and purple pistol she held.

When she was back with some semblance of reality, the tremors having ceased. Tremors.

If your hands shakes... Do you want me to finish it?

And here I thought you wouldn't want to make the same mistake twice.

She looked at his back, and down at the pistol, and then back up at his back, completely oblivious to how she looked frozen in front of the door. She opened her mouth to argue, to try and hand it back, but then took a stagger step backwards, wincing and reaching up to her temple again.

"Distance. Speed. Timing," she murmured, mostly to herself. And then she took two steps forward. And another step forward. And then she settled against the pillar halfway through the room, leaning against it, the pistol still in her hand since she wasn't wearing her holster.

"I will... wait for you," she said quietly, finally responding to the words rather than the action. "Probably safer to walk back together anyways. Never know what will find you on a simple walk through the fields."

She set the pistol in her lap, bowed her head, and began to dig through her bag, pulling out the copy of True Grit housed there and moving to the bookmarked page, held by a printed card that an observant eye might catch read: Distance, Speed, Timing

Her free hand rose absently, twisting her fingers around the dog's head medallion she wore.