(no subject)
You'd figure Bill'd be the type to settle wherever it was he found himself.
That was true, to a degree, but he'd spent his whole life in that little town of Wheelsy, and a lot of what he was, he defined by that little podunk hill o' dirt. He'd always been damn proud to call himself Sheriff of Wheelsy, and damn proud just to be there, and now... Well, now it was just gone. Rubbed out, just like Jack and Wally. Just like his Ma's old house on Market Street. Just like the general store and them killer slugs- which was 'bout the only thing he was happy 'bout. And just like Starla.
But just 'cause he weren't gonna settle in so quick, don't mean Bill Pardy's the type to wallow in his own misery. He'd spent his first few days sleepin'- or pretendin' to sleep in that cramped ol' crash room, with a bunch of strangers, and now it was past time for ol' Bill to venture out on his own. He'd gone and borrowed some tools outta storage, and found a nice clearing a couple miles in from the beach- far 'nough that he wouldn't get washed away in some overgrown tide. Laid out a pile a wood and bambo, and that was when he got a little stuck...
He weren't no handy man, and though Ma'd always call him over quick to tinker 'round with anything went wrong at the house, building a surdy and livable hut of his own weren't something he had much experience with. He'd figure it out just fine, and right quick too, but at that moment, Bill just stood there in his found pair o' blue jeans and his grungy white t-shirt- it was too damn hot for that uniform of his, staring down at the pile of wood and sorta hopin' the thing'd build itself.
[OOC: He's just a little ways inland from where the paths to the Large Waterfall and Compound cross, not too far from Eostre's hut (thanks to Joy for the map). Come find him, help him out, or just have a chat. He's a friendly sorta fella, so very much open to all. Oh! He's going to want to talk to someone about the IPD soon, so someone from the department might want to come by. Late tags/slowtime welcome]
That was true, to a degree, but he'd spent his whole life in that little town of Wheelsy, and a lot of what he was, he defined by that little podunk hill o' dirt. He'd always been damn proud to call himself Sheriff of Wheelsy, and damn proud just to be there, and now... Well, now it was just gone. Rubbed out, just like Jack and Wally. Just like his Ma's old house on Market Street. Just like the general store and them killer slugs- which was 'bout the only thing he was happy 'bout. And just like Starla.
But just 'cause he weren't gonna settle in so quick, don't mean Bill Pardy's the type to wallow in his own misery. He'd spent his first few days sleepin'- or pretendin' to sleep in that cramped ol' crash room, with a bunch of strangers, and now it was past time for ol' Bill to venture out on his own. He'd gone and borrowed some tools outta storage, and found a nice clearing a couple miles in from the beach- far 'nough that he wouldn't get washed away in some overgrown tide. Laid out a pile a wood and bambo, and that was when he got a little stuck...
He weren't no handy man, and though Ma'd always call him over quick to tinker 'round with anything went wrong at the house, building a surdy and livable hut of his own weren't something he had much experience with. He'd figure it out just fine, and right quick too, but at that moment, Bill just stood there in his found pair o' blue jeans and his grungy white t-shirt- it was too damn hot for that uniform of his, staring down at the pile of wood and sorta hopin' the thing'd build itself.
[OOC: He's just a little ways inland from where the paths to the Large Waterfall and Compound cross, not too far from Eostre's hut (thanks to Joy for the map). Come find him, help him out, or just have a chat. He's a friendly sorta fella, so very much open to all. Oh! He's going to want to talk to someone about the IPD soon, so someone from the department might want to come by. Late tags/slowtime welcome]