The wheels on the bus go-- OH MY GOD JENNY THERE ARE BRAKES USE THEM

[foolishwren]

Who: Anyone on the vans and/or big tourbus shuttling volunteers to Olivine City.
Where: ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP
When: May 23rd
Summary: Hey. Hey volunteers. It's time for a ~*~FIELD TRIP~*~
Rating: G-PG13 depending on the level of profanity reached every time Officer Jenny careens around a corner way too quickly.
Log:

Comments

VERY OPEN, obviously!

[blacklodged]

"Diane, eleven thirty-"

A bump cuts him off and Coop's mouth turns into a thin line in annoyance before he starts over.

"--eleven thirty-seven am, the start of what promises to be a very long day and an even longer bus ride."

So guess who's talking into an audio recorder in public? Coop is! He needs to vent somewhere. In a passive agressive notion he figures it's only for the better if the Jenny overhears him, because this, frankly? This is awful driving.

And he's only been here for sixteen minutes. Enough to judge the fact that it will indeed be a very long ride, but definitely not long enough to go crazy (yet). He is feeling quite rattled though, which should be apparent by his voice - quick, tense and pretty damn irritated.

"Boarded the bus to Olivine I told you about and firmly believe that the driver would never qualify for a driver's license in our world. If there were any other vehicles on this road I am quite sure she'd have a lot of explaining to do, especially given the fact that she is one of the many near-identical

HELLO

[foolishwren]

So Cooper's voice is pretty distinctive-- not to mention it carries. Heather is in the midst of weathering out a particularly treacherous turn when he catches her ear, and naturally she looks around, expecting to see him talking enthusiastically to somebody, as his... you know, talking would imply.

Instead she just spots him sitting by himself in an empty seat and apparently talking to nobody.

... Wat.

Heather Mason had always been a curious soul, even if it got her into trouble on occasion. So, sliding a cringing Cujo from her lap in hopes that his COMPLETE TERROR would ensure that he remained in a shivering ball on her seat, Heather moves forward to investigate.

It isn't too hard to sneak when everybody's already distracted with the important business of trying not to die, so she actually makes it almost close enough to peek over the back of his seat to see what he's doing-- ...

... When the bus rounds a sharp curve and sends her flying straight into the back of his seat. With her face.

WHUMP.

"OW!"

OH HIII :D

[blacklodged]

The screech of the wheels are perfectly audible. Coop doesn't really like that, but remains linefaced as he braces himself for the impact - and manages that pretty well.

This is almost worse than the airplane ride he took to Washington. The turbulence had been pretty bad, to say the least - the only real difference here is that busses remain on the ground and thus he feels pretty confident that he'll live, even if he's not entirely sure he'll get out of this unharmed

[foolishwren]

Slowly looking up with a hand on her nose, Heather cringes right back at him.

There was just something about mortal peril in automobiles that brought people together, wasn't there.

"Not yet."

It was a slightly ominous reply, but he no doubt understands her uncertainty.

[blacklodged]

Oh, completely. Bonding over trials, and stuff like that. He doesn't really smile at the response, but halfway nods in a way that pretty much goes to show that he gets it.

"I'd say that it could be worse, but I wouldn't want to lie." Seriously - in between the rain, muddy roads and driving from hell, it's a wonder no one's been seriously injured yet.

[foolishwren]

In Heather's opinion, it's a wonder they're not all DEAD yet.

She's half expecting the bus to go careening off a cliff and then explode on impact.

"Yeah, lying's bad."

... Not that she... y'know, isn't one to talk.

Hauling herself upright again, she knees on the seat behind him so that she can fold her arms across the back of his.

"So. Who were y'talking to?"

SHE CAN'T HELP BUT ASK.

[blacklodged]

Hah. Coop is actually one to talk and has never told a lie unless it was part of an undercover deal. ... seriously.

In any case, he leans back to allow her that position and to not break any of their personal space bubbles. Since the seat next to the window doesn't have an armrest, he repositions himself to lean his back against the glass somewhat. It's a little awkward, but it works.

And you know what? No one ever asks him who he's talking to whenever he does this. They all just accept it. Clearly, Heather's different, but he doesn't really mind, and picks up the audio recorder from his coat pocket to show her.

"My secretary. Force of habit."

Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

[foolishwren]

This is because Cooper is obviously a boyscout in disguise as an FBI agent.

She raises a brow, peering down at the little device. ... Huh.

"... A secretary, huh."

She reaches out with her non-bandaged arm, open-handed, in a silent request to see the recorder.

"Back home, I'm guessing?"

[blacklodged]

... yeah, he was actually an Eagle Scout. Go figure. (It's even canon.)

But he hands it to her. It's not much to see, really. A much smaller recorder than he is used to and with a bunch of smaller and fewer buttons, and he has yet to consider it as his or Diane, but he prefers it to using the Gear. He's accidentally broadcast one or two Diane-musings before, after all.

He nods again, small smile. "Secretaries are hard to come by around here." Not to mention he wouldn't have much use for one. "How's the arm?"

[foolishwren]

OF COURSE.

She takes it with mild interest, bringing her other arm up gingerly so that she can hold it with both hands. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little curious about what else was on there, if he recorded things like 'I'M ON A BUS AT 11:37 AND THIS DRIVER IS TERRIBLE'-- were these things like Twitters for people in the 80's or something? But she wouldn't press 'Play' or anything.

"Yeah, I didn't figure you'd have gotten a job here lofty enough to require a secretary yet..."

Given the general lifestyle that most of the 'foreigners' had adopted here, she wasn't entirely sure that was even possible.

"N'it's okay... seven stitches."

[blacklodged]

Yeah, something like that. It's probably more similar to a diary, which is why he does keep an eye on the way she's handling it - not because he believes she will listen to anything, but because you always get a little protective about those kind of things.

"The jobs are terrible", he answers, tone slightly dry. He stopped working a while ago. At the amount of stitches, though, he raises an eyebrow a little.

"That bad?"

[foolishwren]

She hands it back to him after a moment or two, curiosity more or less sated.

"Out of the blue, my pet dinosaur decided he wanted a taste of my arm. M'surprised I didn't need MORE."

[blacklodged]

He pockets it again with a fond thought the actual Diane's way before looking back at the teen.

"Is he a water type?"

[foolishwren]

"Yeah. 'Pparently that's probably what made him act funny."

With a grumbly sigh, she folds her arms and rests her chin on them.

"I left him in the PC box... I know it probably wasn't his fault or whatever, but I don't need to deal with that right now."

[blacklodged]

"Apparently." He's heard about it - he keeps an eye on the Network. He definitely links this to the current weather and the appearance of Lugia, but it seems fairly obvious that they would be connected somehow.

"It does look the best-" he's halted by another bumpy, but definitely not near-lethal turn. He shakes his head, glances at the front of the bus to where you can't see the Jenny behind the wheel, and runs a hand through his hair to keep it back from his eyes. The rain obliberated the hair gel. It gets in the way.

"I would have done the same as a basic precaution. These pokémon have far more danger potential than any animal back home ... wouldn't want to risk them going into a frenzy."