The crayons get a bit of a peculiar expression from Wolfwood as he walks by, as does the construction paper.
The hippie gets an equally strange expression. "Expecting some preschoolers this week?" He sounded amused and didn't seem too put off to the idea, since he grabbed a cup of coffee, a sheet of paper and a few crayons.
"Y'know, I'm not a professional. I take ideas and run with 'em. Maybe we get some kind like, fire wizard or whatever, turns these things into brilliant sculpture. Who knows? Hi." He grins. "Miniver Cheevy. Welcome to Life Support."
Nick took a seat, "I'd actually like to see that. I can... fold origami?" He chuckled, holding out his hand to shake, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood, ex-priest."
"Ooooh. I always like hearing about new planets. Almost as much fun as tricking my own future out of people who come from it! So like, wait... Was it settled by people from Earth? Are you a Christian priest?"
Nicholas shook his head, "Settled would be one way of putting it. We crash-landed on Stantal about two generations before I was born, en route to a different planet. At least, that's what the stories lead me to believe."
"I got shot and killed. And then I sent in my letter of resignation." Nick said with a hint of apathy to the whole situation. "And you might be right, though. God-forsaken is a great way to describe that planet."
"God-forsaken is a great way to describe where I came from. Come to think of it, it's not a bad way to describe where I live now. I just don't care anymore. I found better things than God. Like sex."
HERETIC AND BLASPHEMER.
"...Usually, though, death is as succinct and precise a notice of resignation as anything. Just... in my experience. Limited though that may be."
Nick chuckled, "God created sex, just so you know."
He nodded and lit up a smoke, "I'm not a big fan of God talk, never have been. I just joined the ministry to help out the orphanage I was raised in, get money for the kids I helped raise. The fact that I was so far from home when I died made me figure that if I sent a letter to them stating that I'd died and retired from the ministry, it'd make them understand... I didn't want to leave any loose strings. A friend of mine is supposed to go back to December and give them the letter. I hope that when he comes back, he's got good news."
"No, I grew up on Stantal. My great-great grandparents were on the SEEDs, one of the ships which brought us across a great, vast amount of space from Earth, in order to find a habitable, uncorrupted planet. I only recently found out firsthand what Earth is like. I work as a gardener for a friend who lives in New Orleans. People from Earth are so blind to the beauty around them. Trees and lakes and rivers... it's amazing."
Nicholas was in awe with all growing things. Plantlife was so rare on Stantal, that when he'd first seen a grove of trees, he'd thought that it had been Eden on Gunsmoke. New Orleans was virtually Utopia, with all its water and groves of cypress, the kudzu... It was fascinating to him.
"I know a guy from New Orleans. Called Remy. Oh... you'd have liked the place I came from. I grew up in the mountains. Hated the city and all the people there, but I'll admit, come this time of year, it was stunning. Hey. You've been out by the lake HERE, of course?"
"I know Remy as well, he's my friend Belle's ex-husband." Nick nodded with a smile. "He's... really quite interesting, he's worse than me in being a skirt-chasing hound dog, and that's really quite a feat!"
He ran a hand through his hair, "I don't like the snow. I mean, I do, but going out in that goddamn stuff? Fuck that. I'd rather stay inside where it just looks nice and doesn't make me freeze my balls off."
Miniver chuckles. "Right, so maybe you wouldn't so much like where I came from. Not in winter anyway. Summer maybe. Me, I don't care so much for plants. Not near me. Fuckers make me sneeze. Pretty, though. I... didn't know Remy'd been married, I think." He considers this. "Maybe he told me and I just didn't understand him. Heh. Happens."
The hippie gets an equally strange expression. "Expecting some preschoolers this week?" He sounded amused and didn't seem too put off to the idea, since he grabbed a cup of coffee, a sheet of paper and a few crayons.
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Beat.
"Used to be."
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HERETIC AND BLASPHEMER.
"...Usually, though, death is as succinct and precise a notice of resignation as anything. Just... in my experience. Limited though that may be."
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He nodded and lit up a smoke, "I'm not a big fan of God talk, never have been. I just joined the ministry to help out the orphanage I was raised in, get money for the kids I helped raise. The fact that I was so far from home when I died made me figure that if I sent a letter to them stating that I'd died and retired from the ministry, it'd make them understand... I didn't want to leave any loose strings. A friend of mine is supposed to go back to December and give them the letter. I hope that when he comes back, he's got good news."
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Nicholas was in awe with all growing things. Plantlife was so rare on Stantal, that when he'd first seen a grove of trees, he'd thought that it had been Eden on Gunsmoke. New Orleans was virtually Utopia, with all its water and groves of cypress, the kudzu... It was fascinating to him.
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He ran a hand through his hair, "I don't like the snow. I mean, I do, but going out in that goddamn stuff? Fuck that. I'd rather stay inside where it just looks nice and doesn't make me freeze my balls off."
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