(Untitled)

[once_invisible]

That the island (or whatever runs it) has an extremely distinct sense of humor is something that hasn't really escaped Rodney Skinner's attention. The fact that the bookshelf keeps giving him titles such as Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and Dracula hasn't passed him by, and neither has the appearance of his coat and facepaint. Today,

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[notcooldude]

"Dude, fifty-two card pick-up?" Hurley says, as the man gathering up all the cards notices he's there. Not that Hurley's easy to miss. He holds up a hand to point. "There's one under the couch. Want me to get it?"

He's come into the rec room to see if he can't watch a decent movie to kill some time, but he's not sure he really ought to anymore. This guy might want some quiet for his ... card-playing-things. He's tempted to offer to join him, but the guy might not want a partner, and leastwise Hurley knows where his skills lie. Not in board or card-games: he never wins. Maybe he's just not cut-throat enough to try hard enough.

[once_invisible]

"If you wouldn't mind," Rodney replies, the same tone of vague guilt in his voice. "These things are the devil, sometimes." A beat. "Dude." The word, unfamiliar as it is, isn't one that Rodney isn't willing to put into his vocabulary. It sounds odd on his tongue, but he doesn't put any derision behind it.

"Again, apologies for the mess."

[notcooldude]

Easily, as if it weren't anything big or any inconvenience, because it isn't, Hugo moves over to the couch, dropping to his knees to dig for the card, even as he carries on the conversation. Tries to, at least. He likes ... conversing. With people.

But the way the other guy says 'dude,' after him, picking right up on Hurley's slang, makes him laugh, until he bumps his head on the nearby coffee table. The laugh turns into a 'dammit,' but he grabs the card and sits back up to hold it out to the guy anyway.

"So I'm Hugo," he says. "Hugo Reyes. I live ... " He waves his free hand in the vague direction of 'toward Sawyer's hut.'

[once_invisible]

"Rodney Skinner, pleasure to meet you," comes the response, as he takes the card back with a nod of thanks. "From - that-ish direction. About seven months and running, now, I reckon." Grinning, he settles back on his haunches, straightening out the part of the deck he's managed to recollect so far.

"And formerly of London. Although I got here by way of Mongolia. Around 1899. Apologies get long around here, but it can't really be helped." Getting back down on his hands and knees, he resumes searching for cards. "So, where're you from?"

[notcooldude]

"Seven months." Hugo's nose wrinkles at that. He's met people who've been there longer, but only a few, and not too much. Still, he's been trapped for longer periods, and it's not enough to put a dent in his confidence that he'll be back where he belongs ... eventually.

More importantly, 1899! Jesus, doesn't that have to suck. Before Bill Gates was even born. Then again, he guesses an island is an island. Not a whole lot of Playstation 3s around this one, either.

"Uh," he says, "Formerly of Miami, Florida. Here by way of ... another magical island. Kind of a long story. Pretty much 'second verse, same as the first.'"

[once_invisible]

"Straight over my head, mate," Rodney says in regards , accompanying his words by waving a hand over his crop of red hair. Having things explained to him isn't a foreign thing anymore, and he's never really been shy about admitting what he doesn't know (at least, if he knows his ignorance won't act as detrimental to him).

"But - here by another island, eh? So is this old hat by now?"

[notcooldude]

Right, mouths Hugo, and nods his head, eyeing that shock of red hair. This guy reminds him a little of Desmond, except, not quite, and older, and less 'brotha' and more 'mate.' Still, he'd rather not make an ass of himself if he can help it, by talking over people. He hates it when it's himself in that position - and somehow, he ends up being in that position a lot.

"Basically," he says, "Old hat, yeah. Except the last island ... we all showed up at once. Crashed a plane onto it. And there were polar bears and nothing ever turned into candy." In that respect, the other island might have been a little more subtle in its messages, if 'subtle' encompassed dead people talking at you. "But other than that, it's pretty much the same deal. So I thought I'd just ... walk around a little, every day, and get to know people. Since they're sorta stuck with me."