What the Hell, thinks Wyatt, and figures he might as well elaborate beyond any variation of 'officer of the law'.
"You know the basics. I'm also a trained scout, can track anything through the densest set of woods - which, I know, useless knowledge around here. I know my flora and fauna - again, useless. Tactical strategy, basic resuscitation skills... Research."
A pause. "And apparently, I'm good at shoveling bird shit. Who would've thought?"
"I think I'll call you Cub Scout from now on," Paul responds lightly. "Or Nature Boy. Forest Ranger. Seriously, is all that outdoorsy stuff a part of being a Tin Man, or is that just you?"
"For one night only, on your nearest kinectograph, The Adventures of Cub Scout and Funny Bone. Get your tickets before they run out!"
Sometimes, dry wit and quirky amusement just go together. "But, for the sake of not being juvenile, all O.Z cops get your basic training in the great outdoors. But Tin Men in particular are based in Central City. I just happened to be born a good way outta town."
He shrugs, giving Paul a slightly awkward smile. Taking credit for something you were brought up doing and had a natural affinity for is just not his style. "I've been learning everything about different outdoor habitats since I was a kid. Getting added training for it just seemed like a natural progression."
Wryly, because guess who just realized he's rambling? "I think Ranger would be most aptly put, come to think of it."
Paul laughs. "What the hell is a kinectograph? Moving pictures, that sort of thing?"
Paul pulls up one leg, to rest his arm holding the tablet on that knee. "I don't know of anything equivalent to that for cops for me. Guess they figure we'll be spending 95% of our time in the city anyway. So you were that kid climbing on trees and swimming in ponds and all that goddamn wholesome stuff, weren't you, Ranger Cain?"
At least it's better than him calling you Ranger Rick?
"Yeah," Cain nods, looking to the side, prompted by a sound in the distance. His kettle shrieking on the stove top.
He brings the tablet over, pours himself a cup of hot water (for tea, though he more smells it than drinks it on any given day). Back to Paul: "A kinetic ecto-graph. Moving pictures projected on a screen or wall, mostly. Some of them hook up to panes of glass, too."
The Ranger Cain bit prompts a smirk. "I sure was. I reckon about 10% of the Zone's domesticated, and the rest is vast expanses of wildlife, and not all the locals are friendly. You need to know how to get from point A to point B if your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, preferably without dying.
"But, yeah. Swimming, climbing trees, racing people through forests. Advanced games of tag that more resembled catching the other team's flag... I went hunting with the family from the age of ten, and Gran' taught me how to sneak up on animals without startling them."
"I don't think I learned to swim until I was in my twenties," Paul says absently, "and that's a bit of a stretch of the verb, probably."
He can't help a chuckle, shifting position to stretch out on the concrete a bit more. "You really did have the wholesome All.... Ozian upbringing, didn't you. You are a fairy tale creature, to this city boy."
"Yeah..." He shakes his head to dispel the dark thoughts always threatening to encroach on his space. He did have a good childhood, by his own standards at least. He loved the freedom of it, growing up, never being confined to the four walls of your room. He could go anywhere he wanted, once he got old enough and skilled enough at finding his way. He vaguely remembers camping out for days on end, all on his own, confident in himself and knowing that his parents trusted him to get back home safe.
But back in those days, all you had to look out for in the woods were bears and the odd tiger or lion. His childhood days were idyllic only because the Zone still was.
"You know, come summertime, I might just drag you on over to the nearest body of water. Teach you how not to sink like a stone."
"That nearest body of water had better be a fucking swimming pool, I don't do that whole 'lake' business. My luck, I'd get eaten by the goddamn Loch Taxon monster. Or contract malaria via an open shaving cut. Or some goddamn thing."
Paul takes a drag on his cigarette, swings one foot over the void of the gap. Heights don't bother him-- cities don't bother him, with all their hard vertical lines. But he's not a nature guy, despite various potted plants that have dotted his many residences.
"Fine, fine." He doesn't say scaredy-cat, but he sure would like to just for the heck of it. "A pool it is, Mister Urban Lifestyle."
Nothing wrong with city people. Cain adapted quite well to city life for well over a decade, never had a problem with it. But he remembers how daunting the Shining City was, at first, simply because he didn't know it.
"Sanctuary might have something like that, though. Might as well check."
Paul shifts position (carefully) on the cement edge of the roof, until he's lying down, staring up at the fake blue sky. He exhales smoke towards it.
"I'm sure there's a pool somewhere, even if not in Sanctuary." Paul closes his eyes, decides that even if the feel of the sunlight is fake he's going to relish it. And relish not being working for a bit.
"Thanks for all the help, by the way. I'd still be scouring, otherwise."
"Probably, yes." It's a good thing Paul isn't looking at the moment, because something darker, not entirely placid and calm ripples over Cain's face. Like storm clouds passing by too fast up above on an otherwise sunny day.
"Ask Glitch, he'll tell you it's my tendencies towards Boyscout Syndrome. Either that or a macho complex."
What good is helping out when either one of them can be gone without a trace from one day to the next? Nothing left behind to prove they were ever there?
"They're not contradictory," Paul points out. "I have known a lot of macho Boy Scouts. And I've seen your complex in action," he says with a little grin, "so I don't need to ask Glitch about that."
Paul's aware that people vanish, too-- but in him at least the knowledge just creates a more frenetic desire to work.
"You know the basics. I'm also a trained scout, can track anything through the densest set of woods - which, I know, useless knowledge around here. I know my flora and fauna - again, useless. Tactical strategy, basic resuscitation skills... Research."
A pause. "And apparently, I'm good at shoveling bird shit. Who would've thought?"
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Sometimes, dry wit and quirky amusement just go together. "But, for the sake of not being juvenile, all O.Z cops get your basic training in the great outdoors. But Tin Men in particular are based in Central City. I just happened to be born a good way outta town."
He shrugs, giving Paul a slightly awkward smile. Taking credit for something you were brought up doing and had a natural affinity for is just not his style. "I've been learning everything about different outdoor habitats since I was a kid. Getting added training for it just seemed like a natural progression."
Wryly, because guess who just realized he's rambling? "I think Ranger would be most aptly put, come to think of it."
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Paul pulls up one leg, to rest his arm holding the tablet on that knee. "I don't know of anything equivalent to that for cops for me. Guess they figure we'll be spending 95% of our time in the city anyway. So you were that kid climbing on trees and swimming in ponds and all that goddamn wholesome stuff, weren't you, Ranger Cain?"
At least it's better than him calling you Ranger Rick?
Reply
He brings the tablet over, pours himself a cup of hot water (for tea, though he more smells it than drinks it on any given day). Back to Paul: "A kinetic ecto-graph. Moving pictures projected on a screen or wall, mostly. Some of them hook up to panes of glass, too."
The Ranger Cain bit prompts a smirk. "I sure was. I reckon about 10% of the Zone's domesticated, and the rest is vast expanses of wildlife, and not all the locals are friendly. You need to know how to get from point A to point B if your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, preferably without dying.
"But, yeah. Swimming, climbing trees, racing people through forests. Advanced games of tag that more resembled catching the other team's flag... I went hunting with the family from the age of ten, and Gran' taught me how to sneak up on animals without startling them."
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He can't help a chuckle, shifting position to stretch out on the concrete a bit more. "You really did have the wholesome All.... Ozian upbringing, didn't you. You are a fairy tale creature, to this city boy."
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But back in those days, all you had to look out for in the woods were bears and the odd tiger or lion. His childhood days were idyllic only because the Zone still was.
"You know, come summertime, I might just drag you on over to the nearest body of water. Teach you how not to sink like a stone."
Reply
Paul takes a drag on his cigarette, swings one foot over the void of the gap. Heights don't bother him-- cities don't bother him, with all their hard vertical lines. But he's not a nature guy, despite various potted plants that have dotted his many residences.
Reply
Nothing wrong with city people. Cain adapted quite well to city life for well over a decade, never had a problem with it. But he remembers how daunting the Shining City was, at first, simply because he didn't know it.
"Sanctuary might have something like that, though. Might as well check."
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"I'm sure there's a pool somewhere, even if not in Sanctuary." Paul closes his eyes, decides that even if the feel of the sunlight is fake he's going to relish it. And relish not being working for a bit.
"Thanks for all the help, by the way. I'd still be scouring, otherwise."
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"Ask Glitch, he'll tell you it's my tendencies towards Boyscout Syndrome. Either that or a macho complex."
What good is helping out when either one of them can be gone without a trace from one day to the next? Nothing left behind to prove they were ever there?
Reply
Paul's aware that people vanish, too-- but in him at least the knowledge just creates a more frenetic desire to work.
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