(no subject)

[scramasax]

Who: Anthony Janvier and OPEN on the 23rd; Harper Sutherland, Reilanin Bainbridge, and Angeline Strauss on the 23rd and 24th.
Where: Around Locke, rounding a park and ending at one grocery store on the 23rd; the library and Angeline's place of work on the 24th.
When: Backdated to Jan. 23rd to Jan. 24th; midday to evening.
What: The resident zombie is, courtesy of Master Nine-Lived Detective, perfectly alive again for a few days. What better way to spend them than outside a bit, running a few errands?



By the time he has split off from Alex, he's already out and well-out and underprepared for it. No tasks lined up, nothing on hand except for a bit of cash, but that's well and good - he hadn't known what to do with this time in the first place, and he's got another day, at least, in all likelihood - this is hitting the ground running.

And running, he can do! Heads quickly down a few blocks in a store-lined zone, remembering his way around and enjoying it - open space without any need for a hiding spot, not that he feels coming on. Occasional bump or near-bump on his blind side, but open, nonetheless, and the sun's no bother and he can properly feel the wind. Both facts are the winter weather aside.

Meanders into the park for maximum effect of outside-ness within a few hours. He flatly drops into a bench. Brings out the sheet of paper he's got pocketed to check up on the network, unfolds it. Proceeds with the checking to his left, in case - not even thinking to compensate for incomplete view of the right.

And with that similarly cursory check done with he can resolve to get at least one minor thing taken care of - he expects he's actually going to need to sleep today, after all.


Fetching what it surely was that at least some of the money he's got on hand was meant or implicitly encouraged to be used for, it is.

He's at the store picking backing ingredients off a shelf and of all things he's forgotten how to do this without actively thinking. He didn't take a basket on the way over here - and obviously whatever he's going to pick is going to be bagged, but then he's going to need to carry those bags by hand on the way home...

Has his arms a bit full scanning shelves for more manageable shapes, if not sizes, turning a bit - doesn't need to be everything at once, just what he'll need to fill in gaps in or re-supply anything there's an obvious shortage of. He can and should come up with a proper plan tomorrow.

-----


He does set out with a proper plan today. Doesn't leave too early, seeing as technically he should be in school now, and has a backpack on him, which may or may not allow him to stand out a little less in addition to serving its utilitarian purpose.

Firm note to drop by the library, which he does - pushes the door open and promptly slips off into an aisle at semi-random just in case by some chance anyone might be present who might recognize him, ask where on earth he's been or pass on word to certain parties to who might be interested.

Either the layout's a hint different, it's occurring to him, or he's misremembering - he supposes either the earthquake forced some reorganization thinking back to Ms. Bainbridge's network message or he's just a bit out of touch. Goes to wandering back around, peering around and into the aisles to at least clue himself into a quick re-mapping-out.


At the store by the time the sun's started going down, however, he knows just where to go. Has made a proper list, weaved in and out of and picked from the aisles, and is at the front. Makes it to the register, hands over cash, responds to a well-meant inquiry about the patch over his eye with a sheepishly-laughing "Oh - it's -- surgery," stuffs the change back into his pocket and takes the bags with a thanks and a duck of the head.

He slows down towards the door stalling on whether to set down his bags and try to fit the shopping bags into the backpack with the books before or after he walks through it.

Catches a glimpse, as he does so, of what looks rather like long blue hair with streaks back inside.

Does a double-take and freezes to the spot. Partly blocking the doorway. That does look rather like who he thinks it does.

Comments

[duette]

Just so happens that one (1) Harper Sutherland is also out on business as usual, this Thursday afternoon. She'd stayed later than she intended at school, so she didn't have time to take a trip to the smaller, local market that she favored. The regular grocery store would have to do — which was just as well, since she only needed a few things.

With a small basket fit into the crook of her arm, her list is still at the ready as she navigates the aisles. Already in the basket are a few winter fruits: clementines, cranberries, and a pear or two, neatly sealed in plastic bags. Now just the dry ingredients, which she went through in droves, on a normal week. Harper turns into the baking aisle, crossing a few more things off as she goes. Tapping her cheek with her pen, her pace slows to an idle meander while she roves over the sugars and flours. Spotting the box of what she needs, she has to stop just short of bumping into someone already present there. Flicking her list away from her face, she reaches over.

"Excuse me, I just need —"

A pause.

[scramasax]

That quite literally blindsided him. At the "excuse me" he starts with a sufficiently weighted-down yelp, maneuvers himself to turn around and back up offering an "of course" - pleasant, if still not entirely re-composed, a sheepish beam to match.

And he recognizes the girl occupying the space immediately next to the one he had been.

A momentary gasp.

Without any conscious attempt, he's pivoted around - increasing the amount of space between them, surely he's nice and adequately out of her way now, and facing her more fully, that is definitely her, the one he and the three briefly-zombies had literally bumped into and who he'd had a talk with on the network that felt rather the same.

Leaving himself likewise wide open and gawking - deer in the road - for recognition as will come. Or lack thereof, perfectly understandable, he'll be ready to explain but hasn't thought to realize it might be invited by his staring.

[duette]

Thinking it would just be a matter of grabbing her items and being on her way, Harper very quickly catches on to the fact that no, no it won't just be a matter of that. With the pad of her index finger already on the box of confectioner's sugar, she shoots the boy a glance, tipping it out of its spot and into her palm. She backs away then, a proper distance on her own. At first, she thought it may just be a result of the patch over his eye, but no, no, he was definitely onto to something. Or he just thought he was.

"It's rude to stare, you know!" On point, she shakes the box at him. "Do I know you?"

Raising her basket, she drops the sugar in, casting another look at him. This is one a fair bit more discerning, searching. As if trying to place him, like he's apparently done with her.

[scramasax]

She's searching, all right. He swallows - it snags down part of a " -- Sorry - ...

"It's -- yes - !" And immediately floating back up high. "I'm uh - ..."

He can't throw his hands up, full as they are, and so instead on his end he sort of tightens his arms around what's under each one, a back of sugar, a bag of flour, a small box of cocoa powder, hikes them up against him somewhat with his eye darting down to them and giving himself that much time to think of what to say - mention the last time he ran into her in person, except that didn't go very well - go the vague route.

Makes a coughing sound that actually sounds fairly casual to his own ears, in his properly-functioning lungs and throat. "I think we -- " Start again - locks eye contact and tries to secure it with a polite smile that comes off barely there as such as opposed to a plain lip-thinning. Voice, similarly, thins pulling out to barely anything carrying. "I apologize but I think that - we talked on the net - work."

And that too went badly, another momentary glimpse down to finish the sentence and back on her face for some sign of recognition.

[duette]

Patience is certainly not her strongest virtue, but in waiting out his attempts to spit out whatever he was meaning to say, something slowly and very surely dawns on her. So much that she's actually not entirely paying attention to what he's saying after all, only the cadence of his speech. And, in placing it, it's her who's left staring.

Which doesn't last very long, as she's marching forward, letting the prim click of her flats on the tile suffice.

Basket thrown up over the crook of her elbow, bags rustling and groceries all astray, Harper's closed the distance between them in an instant. Because both hands have lashed out to sternly grip the no-longer-stranger's cheeks. Almost mercilessly, and entirely on impulse, she pulls.

"You!" she hisses, more surprised than angry, "You're — different."

Wait, scratch that.

"You're the zombie!"

[goldenclothes]

Reorganized, to an extent. There's new carpeting in some areas and the reference books have been moved over to the right of the entrance near the children's section because of the water damage on the left thanks to a broken pipe.

And thank God for that- the musty smell of a dirty, germ-coated, wet carpet was enough to make her nauseous just to remember it.

It was almost good to have it around, though. It took her mind off of everything else. Everyone else. The smell of people all day long is its own slow torture. All the little measures she takes just barely keep her in check. Were she any less stubborn, any less in control of herself, she'd be having a fine time of it. And the reason- the reason, so absurd! There were times she forgot about what was happening to her, and the reality felt like some terrible prank.

Checking the aisles gave her a few moments of reprieve away from the reference desk. She's got a few books in the crook of her arm now just from picking up the abandoned ones people didn't bother to put back on the trolly. She smells him rather than hears or sees Anthony first, looking up at an appropriate moment. She's had to learn to adjust her timing one some things.

"Can I help you with- ...anything?"

The words fall short for just a brief moment before she continues the question, though it comes out stranger than it normally would have. Is that-?

[scramasax]

Daftly the first and most immediate thought he has in mind is that that's a familiar voice, and he withdraws to check it just as he's started pulling back at the spine of a book on a level just above his head snugly pinched between the two adjacent.

The startling dims down and relief lights up - Ms. Bainbridge! - just as the book comes loose from underneath his fingers and drags the two on either side along with it by friction on its way turning off the shelf and down to the groun.

It's a delayed reaction. His heart jumps, a novel thing for it to do again, and he grabs for one of the books in the air once it's barely at the level of his hands at rest. He can only grab at the one, and it slides loose, and in loose almost watery flapping all three hit the ground, covers splashing open and pages spreading before they all settle down.

Mercifully closed and on their sides - finally dives down for them anyhow. " - I'm -- so sorry, um. Hel - " A look back up as he's got each hand on the cover of one to scoop it up and rather shrinking smile. " - Hello, ma'am...!"

[goldenclothes]

Not all of them- one of them survives the drop, a quick lunge forward, snapping one of those books out of the air, coming back up from a near nosedive as though she'd simply leaned over, no momentum except for the sudden jarring of her hair over her shoulders.

She holds it in her hand, confused for a moment, before she looks back to him. His face is familiar, of course, but it's been so long since she's seen it whole she merely stares at him a moment longer before she shakes her head. An attempt to clear it, perhaps.

"...Anthony. It's good to see you."

There's something different about her. Thinner, or sickly. Hard to tell unless one has not seen her in some time. Her usually sharpness seems dulled, and it's almost absent-mindedly she crouches down to pick up the other books.

"This is unexpected."

[scramasax]

For a given value of "whole", of course.

He hasn't stood up yet when she looks back, and he stays put - crouched, though he's gotten the two books that made it to the floor off of it, one on top of the other in his hands.

She shakes her head and his smile tightens up - uncertainly, at best, apologetic, mumbles an "It's good to see you also..."

He thinks he picks up on the weariness, if that's what it is, as well, and can't tell whether or not it's something physical, or just about her air - either and-or both could easily be affected, or exacerbated, or induced by a pulse, would be expected, to, and so he doesn't doubt that it's something - " -- Are you er - ?"

Awkward position belatedly occurs to him - pretends to distract himself by turning the books in his hand down for just an instant and pushing his free one on one of the shelves to haul himself up - tentatively starts straightening out to stand, feeling along for where the books had fallen from and begins tipping them in place. "...Are you all right, ma'am?"

Not a question that's guaranteed an honest answer, he knows, but surely no harm in asking - faint back-of-the-head notion that perhaps keeping moving while asking it might leave a gate for it open for a smoother letting-out, hopefully, at least a hint of it if even remotely warranted.

[grannyfucker]

It's when Anthony is running down the street that Jovan runs into him. Or rather, the other way around. Jovan had to pick up a few things at the pharmacy himself before heading back home to work on his homework, and the process of it was so routine that he wasn't paying much attention when some kid practically tackles him there in the street.

"Hey, watch where you're--" He stops mid-shout because then he gets a good look at Anthony. Or at least, some kid who looks a lot like him, but alive. That can't be a coincidence--especially not when the other three of them had come back from being zombies.

He points a finger at Anthony and opens his mouth to say his name, only to realize he doesn't actually remember it. Instead, his lips try to form the starting sounds of various names until he just gives up. "You!"

[scramasax]

Anthony rebounds - rides the bump to his right shoulder to a stop in momentum and turn to face whoever that is on the receiving end of it, other end of it at least - and short of the reaction having him reflexively reeling further back, the it is all, essentially, very much returned.

Eye shoots wider, similarly, someone who looks like someone he's seen before, but not dead, and whose name entirely slips his mind - the point has him draw back a bit, on-guard, and up floats a high short-of-cracking "Uh - ye -- ?"

Yes? it occurs to him would be interpretable almost as playing dumb on the "you".

"E - uhm." He turns his head down a bit to skim over the ground, there, at least he's got shame, and shame, indeed, a whole sorry wave is coming up and pulling him one way and the other, looks one way across the sidewalk and another to match, anywhere but at what's-his-name for the moment - "Excuse me -- ..."

[grannyfucker]

That's definitely the same voice too, more or less. No mistaking it, this is definitely the last zombie of their little entourage. This guy held his severed arm in place while it was taped back on, back when they were both dead.

(God, what an incredibly fucked up way of thinking about it.)

"You--you're alive now too!" Jovan is still kind of gawking. He is clearly the master of the art of conversation.

[scramasax]

This also effectively makes two of them.

"Uh -- yes - !" A flat-out crack that time partly out of relief - good lord he'd half thought he was in trouble, there, and wouldn't be surprised if he still is and it's just not been made clear yet, but if it is then fair enough, he'll try to talk on to it and get himself braced to take it as gracefully as he can in the process - "Umm. Just for a little while..."

Tone sank like a stone there as if preemptively ducking, in that spirit.

[sugarslice]

Angeline, who is approximately thirteen strides away and also approaching the doorway from a different direction, freezes. She isn't staring at Anthony, though. She's staring past him, at the elderly couple coming up behind him.

"Oh dear, Alvin, it looks like this boy's rooted to the spot."

"Whuh?"

"Cupid's stapled him right to the floor."

"Damnit, Marcie, speak English."

"Excuse me," says Marcie, her voice deep and kind, as she stops beside Anthony. Alvin comes to a stop as well, a reusable grocery bag on his arm and a sigh on his lips. The two are roughly the same height, though where Alvin is solidly stout, Marcie resembles a willow that never quite escaped the wind.

Marcie casts a glance Angeline's way. "Do you know that girl?"

Angeline gives up all hope of escaping without involvement. The corners of her lips twitch in a reluctant smile. She can't hear what Marcie is saying, but the glance is as good as a jail sentence.

[scramasax]

She stops. He assumes the stare's directed at him and that her freezing's for the same reason as his, and returns it with more staring in endeavor to assess how to move - is it acceptable to offer a hello, with or without confirming recognition's mutual first, is better he really just leaves her alone, would another round of apologies just in case make any of the above a safe bet or at least an easier one, more and again for the zombies bit and/or that instant of bringing up the zombies bit, or anything else, really!

He hears talking behind him. He doesn't actually listen until one of the voices comes up from next to him, and he bolts straight.

It finally occurs to him that he's partly blocking the doorway. He turns a wide-eyed look on the older woman and follows hers back over the Angeline, and tries an "Uhm -- "

Brow gives a quick twitch in a momentary plea for Angeline to give some kind of response, he's perfectly happy for her to opt for him not to know her and let her be on her way, wherever exactly she was headed, but for heaven's sake, no, she's on the other side of the doorway, certainly too far away to ask her to be put on the spot!

He'll do the best he can, then. Looks back again and nods, and puts on a thoroughly abashed smile with teeth - own voice kept reserved and actively pulled snugly down at a lower tone - " - Yes...! I apologize, am I - " Looked further around to re-confir that she's with her - husband, there's a man behind her, at least, he'll not be remiss for skipping a "ma'am". " - am I in your way - ?"

Shuffling aside as he says it, and, there, attempt to divert made!

[sugarslice]

"Oh, no, not at all," says Marcie, glancing back at him. She lifts her hand in a leisurely wave at Angeline, who obediently closes the distance, though keeps about a foot between herself and the others.

Putting on a smile and an air of the-opposite-of-I-don't-want-to-be-here, Angeline says, "Hi, Mrs. Barrow. What brings you here?"

"Good evening, Miss. Strauss. We came here to do a bit of shopping-- Henrietta has buckled under the weight of curiosity and agreed to lend me her kitchen for risalamande."

"What?"

"Rice pudding," says Alvin. "Uses rice. Heavy stuff."

Coincidentally, he's carrying the sack of rice.

Whether or not Marcie got the hint is a mystery. She certainly didn't seem to. "Since we're all here, why don't we head back together?"

Angeline brightens. "Sure." She may not be overly fond of the couple, but a ride is a ride. Alvin takes the affirmation to escape.

"And your friend?" prompts Marcie.

[scramasax]

They know each other as well, he supposes that was why they were asking, then - he inches a half-step further back when the elderly woman waves her over.

Some idly curiosity has him taking notes - names, something in his brain drafting up sketches of how they know each other. He has fairly relaxed by the time Mrs. Barrow asks Angeline if she'd like to accompany them back. Good, trouble averted, himself as an obstruction to business removed.

Until he hears the words "And your friend?"

He'd answered that he knows her. They know her. He has made a terrible mistake, answered much too soon, attempts to go through with again giving Angeline prompt not to know him if she wants but now that'd be terribly awkward, even he catches, too little too late.

The easy smile that'd just sort of found its way onto his face as the others were talking takes on an active quality, and, in the shift of frame of mind, active lends itself to ever-so-abashedly cringing.

" -- Oh I erm. -- I walked her - ! I'm - fine..." He keeps his tone polite and pleasant and perhaps just a tad anxious but the drifting off isn't to escape; just to hand it over, it's more helpless than anything, glancing around with a tiny taut smile to match skimming for who's going to talk and-or do next.

[keywarding]

She was out with one very simple task, pick up supplies for a cake. It's her brothers birthday in a few days and she's been tasked with the cake. Usually they just buy one from a local bakery but this year is special. He's turning twenty-one and will be even more boring because of it.

Parking her bike outside the store, Holly checks that her bag is snapped shut before smoothing down the skirt she'd worn, leggings comfortably under it to keep her warm in the brisk January weather.

"He likes strawberries so maybe a vanilla cake with those on top?" She's talking to herself as she goes into the store and turns down an aisle, looking down at the list of supplies she'd need and promptly bumps into someone.

"Ah I'm sorry!" She glances up, her list flutter to the ground as she apologizes.

Why.. does this person look so familiar?

[scramasax]

The bump presses out a "Hmm - ?" and by the time he's replanted balance and a voice has rung up apologizing he's turned with something flustered in his head given momentum, starts mumbling out an "Oh no, no! I'm -- "

And his eye chases down the bit of paper flitting towards the ground - widens a little with his brow knitting in an asking look, lips just separated to actually verbalize a would you like me to pick that up? while he looks back up to the face of the other store patron he collided with.

The familiarity is all the clearer for him. The sensation he's got rushing wide open in his head is, similarly, a "clear" one.

Remembers a necrotic blue warming up in a sense in the first of the other zombies (not actual zombies, rather not meant to be zombies, rather) out that apartment one month ago. " -- Uhmm -- !" Is the first sound he can think to make.

It is actually not unpleasant. Not even more than faintly embarrassed, as she had seemed fine when she had left, and like she would be fine, and here she was, still fine! It's a nice recognition to make - and by now, with his standing there and "uhmm"-ing, he's put himself on a spot, and is at a loss what to do with the recognition.

He does nothing with it at first then - without a word he crouches down - without bending over - and picks the paper up after all. Mumbles out another "um" and holds it out a bit.

Meanwhile doesn't look off her, either. Blinks, sort of passively asking "Can you recognize me, too?"

[keywarding]

For the whole time filled with his 'umms' she's thinking, trying to place his face in the people she's met over the last few months and it's not until he picks up the paper that it finally, finally clicks and it shows on her face. Her green eyes widen and her mouth drops open just a catch before she's gripping her hand, the one that Angeline bit.

"Oh!" She nearly squeaks it out, her eyes still very wide before she licks her lips and finally gets a sentence out. "Hi." She mutters out, a small smile slipping onto her lips, "Thank you! For this and for taking care of me that night." Holly says, her surprise very slowly fading, her grip on her hand loosening before finally she's letting go of her hand to reach out to take the paper.

[scramasax]

He hadn't seen where she'd been bitten - the grabbing at her hand doesn't mean anything to him.

That look of dawning, on the other (figurative) hand, does - and it picks up on his face as well. Perhaps partly in automatic empathy and partly because this certainly reaffirms that yes, each is exactly who the other thinks it is - and fancy meeting her here!

He's still a bit dumbstruck when she says hi - and he doesn't snap out of it to process the rest until she's taken the paper. "... -- Oh - " A bit sticking. "Don't er - I didn't do anything!" It comes out not-quite-laughing, musters a smile himself, now-free hand flicks up. "I'm uh - have - have you been all right? - By the way - ...?"

His pitch and volume shrivel up so to speak as he asks that as clearly she remains no longer a zombie, but in general, things could happen to one of them, things could happen to people whether they've spent some time undead or not in a month!

[siesinddasessen]

Blaine is doing groceries when she spots Anthony jogging by, and it takes her a moment to recognize them. She finishes shopping and heads home, having already half-forgotten about him, but then she spots him again in the park and comes over, just sitting down next to him.

In his blind spot.

Looks at him. And again wonders what echoes might do to her - he didn't look worse than any other male his age before the echoes happened...

[scramasax]

...Did he hear something to his right - half-folds the paper, cupping it a bit, and turning both sideways and around, whatever he's expecting to turn around - and sees a woman next to him, starts - edges inches in a jump.

First bit processed in his mind is that if he was seen doing anything it doesn't matter - non-network people can't see the network and network people acceptable can - and then it registers that he recognizes her as the latter, and in a couple of seconds of baffled blinking recognition winds its way to a name - would've been more immediate if he hadn't only ever seen her face on the network before with indoor lighting on his end, lack of depth or angle exactly like this on hers...

"Uhh -- ex -- ...cuse me - ...!" he blurts out as a sort of default, either for not noticing her (unless that's what she wanted) or for being in her way (although she wasn't there when he had originally sat down) or simply for saying this instead of attempting to verbally confirm recognition - felt odd calling her out that first time on the network and feels peculiarly in the moment as if he'd be blabbing, giving away someone's position or some such if he did here without some sort of permission - hopes his staring is look is intent enough to say that he thinks he knows her from somewhere...!

[siesinddasessen]

She's seen him more than he has seen her, anyway, even though he looked different then. But she's never been closer to him than being in the same city, basically, so this is new.

She's not even quite sure why she sat down for starters, but it seemed like the right thing to do. "You really look better." It's almost insulting, to say that - of course he would - but heck if she cares. Making an inroad into this actually becoming a conversation.

[scramasax]

"Er -- thank you -- ..."

Likewise that seems the appropriate response - didn't take it as an insult, and it does indeed seem to be the confirmation that he was looking for, no muss, no fuss - and to keep it that way shuts down each of the next sentences coming to mind; "Do you need something" might be appropriate if it wasn't presumptuous, "Can I help you" sounds like a less-forward version of the same.

Falls on and cracks into a wholly unconstructive " -- I'm surprised you recognized me - !" Bit of tentative heart but no real humor breaking in; flicker in his face that stops short of entering any kind of smile.