001: still I'm dying with every step I take, but I don't look back [holo]

[ownlittleprison]

If there's one thing I've learned in 85 years, it's that what we want doesn't always matter. Yeah. You can say that again.It had been a good twenty something hours, all things considered. He’d saved the day, saved the girl, gone on the strangest roller coaster ride of his life - literally - and at the end of it, he got a curve ball to rival all

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[ visual ]

[poisonousparty]

This is a newcomer and newcomers mean Party can be a little lax on security. There's something about the snark, the little quips here and there that make Party Poison think of Fun Ghoul and how the seat of his car smells like cigarettes now, always cigarettes because Ghoul's lazy smirk and his damn cancer sticks cling to you.

It's why he can't help but turn the visual on. He's on the hood of his car, sitting on the giant spray-painted spider, mask slipped on as he watches the other flail around, helpless. For a brief moment he feels bad he was so amused, and tells the mysterious nonexistent voice of Fun Ghoul to cram it.

"Look alive, sunshine." Party nods in the tablet's direction. "You're out of whatever frying pan were in and into the damn fire. It's a gilded cage and the whole thing's costa rica but I'm Party Poison and I'll try my best to be your guide through this hellhole."

[ visual ]

[poisonousparty]

This is a newcomer and newcomers mean Party can be a little lax on security. There's something about the snark, the little quips here and there that make Party Poison think of Fun Ghoul and how the seat of his car smells like cigarettes now, always cigarettes because Ghoul's lazy smirk and his damn cancer sticks cling to you.

It's why he can't help but turn the visual on. He's on the hood of his car, sitting on the giant spray-painted spider, mask slipped on as he watches the other flail around, helpless. For a brief moment he feels bad he was so amused, and tells the mysterious nonexistent voice of Fun Ghoul to cram it.

"Look alive, sunshine." Party nods in the tablet's direction. "You're out of whatever frying pan you were in and into the damn fire. It's a gilded cage and the whole thing's costa rica but I'm Party Poison and I'll try my best to be your guide through this hellhole."

[ holo ]

[ownlittleprison]

Mick frowns where he stands, surveying his surroundings. Go out there into the pool area (and what the Hell is that all about?) and jot one more down in favor of going insane, or stay in the metallic room like a scaredy cat?

Go out into the other room it is; the new voice echoing out over the pristine tiles in a much scarier way than in any 1950's sci-fi double feature.

He looks down at the face - at the mask, more like it - reminded almost instantly of the lecherous, power hungry professor who fancied himself a vampire. Him and his office full of antiques and vampire paraphernalia.

But the similarities stop there. "Gilded cage, huh?" He says, looking this way and that as he moves across the floor with new found purpose. There's got to be a way out of here.

"You been here long?"

[ visual ]

[poisonousparty]

"Long enough to know this place is ten pounds of guano and six kinds of crazy," Party answers automatically. He glances over at the Tablet and nods, his way of saying 'you're not alone.'

"Don't know all the details yet but I'm railing to get out. There's another gal--Gwen Raiden. She's handy to have on your team. Keep your gun close if you've got it, they apparently look like hamsters but who knows what they really are. Aliens, apparently."

He glances at the tablet again and there's an odd look that flickers across his yellow masked face before he turns a sharp left, nearly taking out a car in front of him.

"Don't trust anyone."

[ visual ]

[ownlittleprison]

Mick pauses, opens his mouth to answer, closing it just as quickly. Because what in all the levels of Dante's Hell dimension is coming out of the kid's mouth?

He shakes his head slightly, blinking away the confusion and focusing on the bits that make sense. "Yeah, Gwen. I talked to her just now. Feisty one."

He writes off the hamster comment as yet another bit of slang and moves onto all the rest. "Don't trust anyone, huh?" He flashes a brief, slightly perplexed but good-natured grin. "Then why should I trust you?"

[ visual ]

[poisonousparty]

Good. Good--someone smart. Someone who gets it. Someone who's quicker then a few of the people he's met.

"You can't and you shouldn't," He says automatically, tapping his mask. "Back home you can't even trust fellow Killjoys. Might get into a mighty clap over some rations. But keep thinking like that--it'll save you more than it'll hurt you." Because Party clearly has trust issues and 10 tonnes of 'they're out to get me' embedded in his skull.

"Anyway, me and her are gonna try and get out of this godforsaken place. Feel free to throw your lot in with us until we can conglomerate, y'hear?"

[ holo ]

[ownlittleprison]

"Tell me about it," Mick agrees at the comment about paranoia saving you more often than it kills you. It's a sentiment he more than relates to. As a vampire, you have to be ever vigilant, ever watchful that you don't slip up. If he got a cent for every time Josef had mentioned the pitchfork bearing mobs of three, four hundred years ago, he'd be a very rich man.

That kind of thing sticks to you like a low grade bandaid.

"Thanks, but I prefer working alone. I'm not ruling it out completely, but I don't think I'm good company right now. I need to get my bearings first."

It isn't a lie, technically speaking he does prefer to work alone. You live alone, sleep alone, eat alone long enough, you become used to it. That's what he tells himself, at least.

"That's a sweet ride you got there. Is that a spider paint job?"

[ visual ]

[poisonousparty]

He works alone and Party's actually not upset. He's rather impressed, and if there's one thing he can respect it's solitude. He simply shrugs underneath his mask, muttering something about how necessary an unbiased pair of eyes are out in the zones. Party couldn't handle being along. He can barely handle being without his brother here, but he keeps his nightmares to himself

[ visual ]

[ownlittleprison]

Mick nods along, filing away the term Killjoys as another bit of colloquial lingo, trying to get a better look at the spider. He likes tattoos, will probably always like them for reasons entirely his own, but he can agree it looks good on a car.

Maybe even shiny, like the kid says.

"Hey, unless it's your fault, don't apologize. Thanks, though. I appreciate it."