boogie wonderland; ota

[questioningmermaids]

Who: Holland March + open, Holland + Huaisang
What: March spends some time contemplating, talks distilling with Huaisang
When: Nov 2nd
Where: Community hall

Content Warnings: usual cw for alcoholism

i. Weapons cleaning + contemplation;

His supplies are running low. There's only so much you can scavenge in a place like this, but when you chain smoke like a chimney and drink like a fish eventually what you can scrounge up is going to disappear. He's got a little left, sure, courtesy of a gas station raid and the basement Huaisang's got, but supplies aren't infinite.

It gets him thinking. Makes him antsy. March enters the community hall like he usually does, a frequent visitor like most of the small little community they've all managed to put together, but he's never really done much. Drank some coffee, chatted. It's hard to tell if he even realizes he's the village idiot.

Today, though, he's set up in a little corner and is making sure his gun is cleaned along with sipping his morning caffeinated sludge. He's less animated than usual, less talkative, simply staring into space as his hands go through the motions. If not interrupted, he'll eventually speak.

"We're really fucked here, huh? Completely." Holland knows he should curve the negativity, but it's starting to get to him more than he'd like admit. He's been adamant they're all probably going to die within the month since day one but there's less of a joking tone towards it this time.

He wants to help sure. Pitch in, even. Mostly he's just worried about how tiny his booze stash is getting.

After coffee there's a far less depressing revelation, said just as solemnly.

"...Should I hunt?"

ii. Huaisang;

"We gotta do something."

March doesn't bother to announce himself when he opens the door to Huaisang's place, spending far more time there than he probably should. His scarf is taken off, the hat is dumped unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Hey. Huaisang? Huaisang, we gotta do something. You know what I did today? Math. You know what that math was for?"

He's already flopping onto the nearest available surface, aviators still on.

Comments

[fanoperator]

"Sounds horrible, why would you do math?" Huaisang grimaces sympathetically at him, nose wrinkled. He's all bundled up on the couch in pretty much the entire house's supply of blankets, since he is now officially out of firewood in the house, would rather suffer than cut his own firewood, and even his naturally shameless conscience feels guilty about making someone else do it for him. He has no capacity to live alone. He 'lives' in the community center, at least for now. This is just the house where he goes to sketch and have a little privacy and where he stashes the alcohol he scavenged.

[questioningmermaids]

"It was horrible. Where's the firewood?"

Not important. Not to the conversation, but March has to ask. It seems a bit counter-intuitive to wrap all those blankets around your body when you can just light something. True to March, if he isn't extremely quiet he's just sort of rambling:

"Right--math. So, we're gonna run out soon, you know. The basement. The bottles." It's not like they've cornered the market on all the booze, sure, but that's also not important.

[fanoperator]

"I don't have firewood," Huaisang says, a quiet tone that's not quite apologetic and not quite sulky. He's not sorry about the problem and he's not asking March to solve it for him, but he does feel bad about being a failure at this (among other things).

"Oh. Yes. I know." Huaisang's a little surprised that March has only just done this math and that it required math. It's immediately obvious to Huaisang that the bottles are Not Enough. He doesn't particularly want to know how soon they will run out. He's already doing his best to ration. He already hid several bottles where March doesn't know about them, since it is valuable as a disinfectant and Huaisang's not sure March knows about rationing, so he wants to have emergency bottles. Huaisang likes having contingency plans. "Was there more to the math than that?"

[questioningmermaids]

"You don't--" He doesn't have firewood. March doesn't bother to hide the stare he gives Huaisang, stopping only because he's marveling at the look on the other's face. He's not sure anyone's been able to fully look like that in the history of mankind.

He's going to have to chop firewood because of that perfectly round face, is what he's hearing. But there are more important matters, like throwing his hands up in a partial flail to emphasize the seriousness of the situation, voice raising considerably in pitch as he does so.

"What are we gonna do?!"

[fanoperator]

"Oh, well. Brew more. Probably. It's not hard. And we already have plenty of empty bottles to work with. What we need are some big buckets, the bigger the better. I haven't seen any barrels around, barrels would be nice, but I suppose we can get started with just some large cooking pots." Huaisang has already thought all this through. He's never done it before, but he knows how it works. He just hopes he hasn't forgotten anything important about how it works.

"We can use fruits or grains, and there's lots of bags of white sugar, which I don't know how that works but it'll probably work. Anyway, the important thing is that it can't freeze. That's the only reason I haven't started yet, really. I don't have any way to keep it at a steady temperature. It has to be warm. Not summer-hot, but certainly ... spring-warm. Consistently."

[solitarysoul]

He'd been patroling extra early today, so Levi'd back in the community hall later in the morning. He pauses near March and watches the man clean his gun for a moment. It was almost medatative for him, so he wonders if its similar for this guy.

"We...might not be completely fucked." Levi frowns. "We can survive here but...I don't know about anything else.
"We should probably start hunting soon, though."

[questioningmermaids]

March sort of knows Levi--at least he thinks he does, he's seen him around and his memory is fuzzy for the first couple of days courtesy of a large bottle and relative inaction about the situation.

But he answers quickly, frowning.

"You can survive, maybe, I'm meant for better things. Greener pastures. Literally."

[solitarysoul]

"That's not really an option right now, though. We just have to make it through this, then maybe you can find those."

He doesn't sound very optimistic, though.

[questioningmermaids]

"That's not--" March sighs. "It's just a saying, but thank you."

He wouldn't be opposed to literal green pastures, now that he's thinking about it.

"Levi, right?"

[pacificator]

"Aren't you the ray of goddamn sunshine we all need right now?"

Wynonna is slouched in a chair nearby, legs stretched out and feet crossed on a crate, Peacemaker tucked cozily into the shaft of her boot next to her calf. The coffee's okay; she's had worse. There aren't any donuts, though, and that is a real problem.

But he's not wrong. They are fucked, probably. Winter in the Ghost River Triangle is only bearable because they have power, and heat, and donuts. Stocked grocery stores. A saloon.

She aims a skeptical glance at him over her cup. "Can you hunt?"

[questioningmermaids]

What is with highly attractive women giving him attitude in this place? March glances over at the woman with a deep frown and a crease in his brows, trying to simultaneously puzzle out his initial thought as well as a new second thought: has he seen this girl before?

It doesn't work so he mentally sets both aside for now, twists his body a bit to face her properly, and answers with an incredibly sincere question.

"Do I look like I have before?" His gaze dips down briefly to her gun, brows smoothing from their furrowing and raising in approval.

[pacificator]

Here's thing about glancing down from her face to Peacemaker: that one glance has to journey all the way along her body, and by the time he looks back at her face, her eyebrows are arching up toward her hairline. "You look like the only thing you've ever hunted for is your other sock."

Actually, that's being generous. She's not sure this guy is together enough to have matching socks.

[questioningmermaids]

"Nope," March answers smoothly, and decides that since Wynonna didn't immediately punch out otherwise dissuade March from talking to her while he was eyeing her he's probably safe. The gun and existential doom are temporarily forgotten as he leans to one side, elbow on the table with a proud, confident look etched onto his face.

"Hunted for loose change in the couch cushions a few times, so. Hope you like being wrong."

[fidior]

It's typical that Edward makes his rounds to the community center, perpetually clad in uniform, the same formal figure on patrol. He takes some time to check in on things there, chatting with various people, taking stock of firewood — making certain that things are running smoothly.

Coffee is also part of his routine, and only when business is taken care of does the lieutenant allow himself a (brief) moment to rest. Grasping a large mug in his gloved hands, he's walking around with every intention to finish the drink quickly and set off again, when he spots a familiar face off in a corner on his own. Edward finds himself heading that way instead, though it becomes clear the other man is quite occupied in his task (or perhaps his thoughts), and Edward lingers close-by, maintaining a well-measured distance that he means to convey as "Polite But Close Enough to Be Amicable."

As soon as March begins to finally speak, the other man's brows are lifting, head turning that way, ready to greet the dialogue with mannerly attention, but what comes is.......... Well—! Unexpected vulgarity.

Sadly, the particular meaning to that use of the curse word doesn't develop for several years after when he's from. Little only knows one association, and it's very much of the sexual activity sort. He startles, eyes widening, visibly stunned. By now, he's somewhat used to March's colourful way of speaking, but this....

"......Pardon?" he finally offers, after a lengthy silence. "Did you mean to voice such.... thoughts, aloud?" Perhaps he overshared something quite personal.... God, Edward hopes nothing happened out here in the community center; it's public.

[questioningmermaids]

March is vaguely aware of someone in his periphery in the sense that there is a dark sort of blob just around his line of sight while he cleans his pistol. He doesn't think too much about it--everyone sort of blends in when he's zoning out--but when Edward finally says something his whole body tenses as he jumps, shoulders so high that for a brief moment he appears neckless. A little squeak that is entirely too high pitched for a grown man leaves his mouth and March closes his eyes, scrunching them as hard as he can to try to stop his heart from bursting out of his chest.

"Jesus--hi, Eddy, nice to see you, too." An exhale.

"What'd I say?"

[fidior]

The other man is clearly quite out of sorts, Edward blinking in polite startle as March jumps like that, and even gives such a sound of surprise.... The Victorian is lifting his free gloved hand almost placatingly, brows raised in concern. Is he quite all right....?

Ah, but then he asks that.....

Edward looks immensely uncomfortable, physically coiling a bit. How to.... answer this.... He quickly adjusts his voice to a low murmur.

"Ah, you were speaking of your.... er, intimacies. Relations." This is so horrifically awkward! Can you tell he is cringing with his entire body, here. "Though you said we had all..... had them...? Completely."

'We're really fucked' does not quite translate into what Edward is saying, but he doesn't know how else...

[questioningmermaids]

Sick? Is Edward sick? March blinks at the sight of him very clearly looking Not Good, and it absolutely does not occur to him that it's about what he's saying at all. The Victorian gentleman leans in and March leans in too, wildly confused.

He's bunching up. Is he shivering? Is this the flu?

"Huh? What did I say?"

i

[bigbaddy]

".. I don't think you should be the one hunting."

Sorry, Holland. It's not even like Bigby means it in any actual bad sort of way, though it may be hard to believe with the tone he's using or the face he's making as he glances in Holland's direction while uttering those words - but the resting grump face and the gruff quality of his tone just do that, making everything sound harder than it's necessary mean to be.

If anything, Bigby is saying it out of concern for Holland. He kind of feels like the guy would just get himself killed if he'd go out there alone.

It's not a warning out of kindness though, he assures himself. It's just repaying the cigarette from a while ago. Clearly. Totally.

"You sure you won't just get yourself killed?" Okay, Bigby, maybe you don't mean it badly, but also don't rub it in, my guy.

[questioningmermaids]

March also doesn't think he should be the one hunting, so he's not going to take Bigby's initial words too personally, though there's a mutter of an affronted 'oh thank you very much' that he can't resist.

He brings a hand up to run down his face, smudging his cheek in the process, and then he swings around so he's fully facing Bigby from his spot. He likes Bigby. Cool guy. Reasonable guy. He wants a cigarette just by looking at the other but he's made a point of trying to slow down on what (very little) he has left and to not smoke in the community areas, so he's going to just have to quietly suffer instead.

"What else should I be doing?" He's genuinely asking, if how his eyes are desperately trying to search Bigby's face is any indicator. "I got a gun, I know how to use it."

That's it. That's his skills. March's upper lip curls as he realizes just how sad that probably sounds.

[bigbaddy]

There is something a little sad about the other, really. Maybe about March's posture, or his tone, or the things he's saying here. It feels a little like finding a wet cat out on the streets, especially when he voices that last part.

"Yeah? You ever used it before to hunt?" There's something a touch sceptical in Bigby's tone, mostly fed by the way his tone naturally sounds.

He's not sure March ever has. He thinks about the way the other talked to him last time around. It didn't exactly make him seem like some hardened hunter.

[questioningmermaids]

There's palpable relief for March the moment Bigby decides to take a bit of pity on him in the form of a sigh. He'll take pity. He's actually kind of used to it--its where he sits with most women, so. He's not exactly above playing that card.

March isn't above much in general.

"I live in LA. Closest to hunting I ever get is chasing foxes at the Kitty Cat Lounge," he confesses. A hand raises to motion around the room.

"Unless there's a need for a PI, I'm out."

i

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach had ended up in the Community Hall as he did at least a few times a week. He wasn't sure why he did. It wasn't as if he needed to be around people for any practical reasons. He could have survived physically just fine on his own without ever seeing another person. But part of him, a bigger part than he wanted to admit, was still very much a human being who craved contact with other people. So here he was.

....Though perhaps the kind of interaction he was looking for wasn't with the drunken idiot he'd already run into before. Still, he looked to be less drunk and more concerned with gun safety at the moment. Rorschach still didn't feel like being civil. "Why? Want to shoot your own foot off?" He asked bluntly.

[questioningmermaids]

March cants his head to the side, purposefully not looking at Rorschach. It's hard not to glance up when the guy with the cheesecloth mask wanders in, and the voice is pretty unmistakable in terms of gravel, but the blonde keeps his eyes on his gun.

His cleaning is proper, at least. He's competent. He's learned it from somewhere.

"Okay. There's a lot of negativity here." his voice is deadpan, eyes narrowing a fraction of an inch. "I could not help at all and just sit here, that's an option."

[moralabsolutism]

He took note of the fact the village idiot had apparently learned how to properly wield a gun at some point in his past. Well, that was mildly interesting. He wondered how well the drunkard could shoot when he was sober. In any case, if he tried, Rorschach wanted to be behind him when the attempt was made.

"Might be the better option," Rorschach said, his flat voice containing just a hint of snark that was easy to miss for people who didn't know him well.

[questioningmermaids]

"Thank you so much for your brilliant observation," March says politely in a tone that suggests he isn't being polite at all, and begins to reassemble his gun.

"You got any other great advice for me, Cheesecloth?"