[ PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT ] ; take a step back, i'm on fire

[postictal]

[Hey, everybody, guess what? Tim's been a busy boy.]

alright 2 things

1. i got 30 flare guns. each has 4 rounds with 2 colors: red and blue. blue is if you need help. red is to tell everyone to clear out cause of serious danger. i'm at the storyteller's temple if you need one. don't need to trade anything but like i said i only have 30 so if you travel in a group and keep together you should just have 1 between you all. if you run out of flares you gotta ask ST for more.

2. who here knows how to fight. just putting it out there it might be good to have some people we all know can handle themselves if someone needs help. guard task force security group call it whatever you want itd just be damn handy to know who to ask for in a fight

thats all

-tim

[ooc: feel free to respond here via the iStone 5s or via an action prompt at the Storyteller's temple!]

Comments

ACTION ; STORYTELLER'S TEMPLE

[postictal]

[Sure enough, there he is: smoking a cigarette with a solid number of relatively worn flare guns carefully arrayed into a pile.]

[thejaw]

[Brian could have just written a reply, but for some reason it feels strange and uncomfortable communicating with Tim that way.

(He knows the reason. Static screens and distant words without a face and hiding behind the cover of multiple messages, from different messengers. It's harder to feel okay about it when he can now replay the moment Tim first saw his face over and over again in his head.)

Besides, he has his notebook now, so it won't be so hard to talk. He approaches with a small wave, still unsure of how you're meant to casually greet someone when there's a laundry list of history building between you day by day that now includes: that one time he technically caught you breaking and entering his home, that other time he threatened your life, and that time he tore crystal from your flesh to save it.

Anyway.

He holds up his notebook, message already prepared:]

hey
are there any flare guns left?
im not traveling in a group, so if you dont want to give me one i understand.

[postictal]

[Giving a gun to someone who’s facilitated more personal injuries than Tim cares to count on both hands isn’t historically a good idea, but it’s not like he has a ton of good ideas at his disposal these days anyway. The worst that happens is he gets a burn scar somewhere and a new reason not to trust anyone, ever, which is something he already kind of knew.]

[He stubs out his cigarette on a nearby boulder and stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.]

Got plenty. You need one?

[thejaw]

[That's not a yes, but it's not a no, either. Looking wary, Brian nods. He's prepared himself to walk away from this empty handed, and now it's beginning to feel like it was a stupid ass idea to even show up in the first place.

There's no trust here. Brian remembers the look on Tim's face when he picked up the axe. Why would he hand him something he could use as a weapon?]

[postictal]

[Silence.]

[A nod.]

[Tim fishes one up, spins it around to offer it handle-first.]

Two rounds. One red, one blue. I guess it can double as a weapon if you really need it to, but it's really not ideal. [Unknowingly touching on that thread of anxiety, because at this point, it doesn't matter what kind of hang-ups he has about handing Brian weapons; the sun's dying, and they're all gonna need a way to stay alive to make it through.]

[He never wanted him dead.]

Pretty simple mechanism. Works just like gun.

[And I know you know how to work one of those.]

[thejaw]

[Brian takes just a little too long to accept the gun to play his surprise off.

Once he has it tucked in his bag, he scribbles another response.]

thnks

blue 4 help?

[Just double checking he remembers it right.]

[postictal]

Yep. Red's to make sure people know to stay away.

...least, that's the theory. We'll see if it actually plays out.

[Was he not expecting it? Must not have been. Must have been anticipating refusal, for whatever reason. (For whatever reason. Can you blame him?)]

Might be the only thing that shows up when it gets real dark, so - point it carefully, I guess.

[thejaw]

[He nods in reply, looking over the gun before tucking it into his bag.]

what do you want for it? blanket? rags?

[He doesn't have much to trade. With a lopsided smirk he adds:]

baking soda?

[postictal]

[Tim merely shrugs.]

Not really looking for anything. Everyone's just getting them free, 'cause I think it's cheaper than actually dying. [Just out of the goodness of his stupid, sentimental heart. Weird, right?]

[thejaw]

[He looks less taken aback then he feels, simply nodding and giving Tim a thumbs up.]

fair enough

[Not fair enough. Definitely weird.

Should probably say that thing that humans say when they're grateful.]

thanks

[postictal]

No problem.

[What does he even say to that - to Brian's palpable uncertainty, the sheer weight of his shock that he's not being expected to give something in return? "Maybe consider that I never wanted you to die."]

[That would be in poor taste, considering everything. Considering - considering how he ended up.]

Just...y'know. Stay safe out there, yeah?

[thejaw]

[It's one thing to know that someone at least doesn't want to kill you or want you dead. Cool. Great.

It is something entirely different to hear that person actively encourage you to be safe after equipping you with a tool to aid you in doing just that. He thinks back to the caves, and the crystals. Tim just keeps- being there.]

you too

[postictal]

[Yeah, he's gonna be real safe out there, huh? He doesn't crack a grin. Neither of them are much for that anymore, and how fucked is it that Brian's thousand-watt grin has been muzzled behind the sloping lines of a frowning mask tucked in a hood, to the point where the infectious joy that was so characteristic of him has been grayed-out into nothing?]

[No one deserves to live the way Tim has. Brian least of all.]

Yeah, well.

[He could add a lot there. Like how he would've stayed safer, back home, if someone wasn't stealing his pills and sneaking into his house and making his life hell, dangling answers in front of him and snatching them ruthlessly away.]

[As if he needs to say it.]

[He's pretty sure neither of them have forgotten.]

You know me.

[thejaw]

[He feels the moment pass, feels the words unsaid, and even if he doesn't know what they are, he has a pretty good idea.

Brian just nods, and he leaves.]