Some time later-- don't ask when-- a much more weathered Neil pulls up to the Cooper farm in an equally scuffed electric car.
Don't ask where he got it.
Spend enough time wandering the roads of Kansas and you'll find out pretty quickly that there's this farm full of weirdos and outworlders, smack dab in the middle of the nominal safe zone. He wanted to see it for himself. So sue him.
In the interval between his conversation with Bayami and the present moment, he's managed to find himself some clothes that aren't as obviously astronautical (or less obviously military) as his flightsuit. The suit, therefore, is in the backseat with the rest of his meager supplies. His gun is... somewhere. You'll find out if you startle him.
There's a short ginger kid standing on tiptoes outside the house and holding a little tin radio away from his body at an angle, because he's sure the reception is slightly better like this than it was in his previous position in the bunker.
Steve notices the eyepatch, but doesn't particularly react to it (beyond 'ooh, rugged'). Hey, he lives in a world where gods and dragons run around and skinless dogs try to eat you*. By comparison, an eyepatch is almost humdrum.
He gives the guy a friendly smile, though he doesn't lower the radio.
"More or less. I keep hearing about this place. You guys still letting in everybody who wanders by in need of a home?"
Not that he's planning to stay indefinitely, but someplace to crash for a few days besides the backseat of his dusty black 2128 Saturn would be just peachy.
Yes, 2128. Ancient, but not as ancient as most of this damn world.
Teasing: "Nice to meet you, Uh Steve. I'm Neil. Gimme a minute, then."
A minute-- well, twenty seconds-- is the time it takes him to pull back into the car, find himself a spot in the lineup of assorted vehicles beside the house, and get out.
He walks a little stiffly when he does. Those bruised ribs are still giving him trouble.
Oh, and the gun? Remember the gun? Shoulder holster, under an open jacket. It's not highly visible, but he's not making much effort to conceal it, either.
Steve snorts, though he does have to admit that he walked into that one. He watches Neil park, still slowly twisting the dial of the radio as static whispers out.
"You all right over-- um." That was him noticing the gun and lowering the radio. Cautiously: "You're not planning on using that, right?"
He looks up at Steve, looks down, and laughs softly.
"No. I just like to have it handy. Can't be too careful out there, and it's really not something I want to lose."
Speaking of which, the next thing he does is go around to the backseat and pick up a battered canvas bag. The car he doesn't care about much. His flightsuit and assorted scavenged supplies aren't going anywhere without him.
"Not the lap part, or I'd probably need some crutches to go with the patch. But yeah, about half a day after I flashed in--" A nod to the vehicle. "--my buddy over there showed up in the middle of the road the same way. Good thing, too, although I'll have to abandon it pretty soon if I can't find a way to recharge."
"I might be able to help with that!" He's already running through what they used to convert Satya's speeder in his head, since from 'recharge' he's guessing the car is something futuristic. "What's it run on?"
Don't ask where he got it.
Spend enough time wandering the roads of Kansas and you'll find out pretty quickly that there's this farm full of weirdos and outworlders, smack dab in the middle of the nominal safe zone. He wanted to see it for himself. So sue him.
In the interval between his conversation with Bayami and the present moment, he's managed to find himself some clothes that aren't as obviously astronautical (or less obviously military) as his flightsuit. The suit, therefore, is in the backseat with the rest of his meager supplies. His gun is... somewhere. You'll find out if you startle him.
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Hmm.
Maybe if he tilts it like--
Oh, hey, a car.
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He leans out, incidentally revealing the eyepatch.
"Hey. You live here?"
(The fluff and the youth and the look of concentration remind him obliquely of Setsuna.)
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He gives the guy a friendly smile, though he doesn't lower the radio.
"Hey, yeah. Are you new?"
*He's still not very happy about that.
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Not that he's planning to stay indefinitely, but someplace to crash for a few days besides the backseat of his dusty black 2128 Saturn would be just peachy.
Yes, 2128. Ancient, but not as ancient as most of this damn world.
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Well, if a psychopathic murderer can be made welcome...
"Don't know how many rooms there are, but one should turn up. I'm, uh, Steve, by the way."
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A minute-- well, twenty seconds-- is the time it takes him to pull back into the car, find himself a spot in the lineup of assorted vehicles beside the house, and get out.
He walks a little stiffly when he does. Those bruised ribs are still giving him trouble.
Oh, and the gun? Remember the gun? Shoulder holster, under an open jacket. It's not highly visible, but he's not making much effort to conceal it, either.
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"You all right over-- um." That was him noticing the gun and lowering the radio. Cautiously: "You're not planning on using that, right?"
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He looks up at Steve, looks down, and laughs softly.
"No. I just like to have it handy. Can't be too careful out there, and it's really not something I want to lose."
Speaking of which, the next thing he does is go around to the backseat and pick up a battered canvas bag. The car he doesn't care about much. His flightsuit and assorted scavenged supplies aren't going anywhere without him.
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"It is kind of a grab-bag of fun ways to get hurt out there."
A flash of worry across his face, which he leaves unexplained.
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It wouldn't surprise him at this point!
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"I might be able to help with that!" He's already running through what they used to convert Satya's speeder in his head, since from 'recharge' he's guessing the car is something futuristic. "What's it run on?"
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So that's a no, not quite right for around here. Not beyond Steve's power to screw around with, though, if his grin is any indication.
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