Be Prepared [Active, Open]

[inkblotjustice]

Characters: Rorschach, Anita Blake
Setting: Greenhouse
Time: Night 002
Summary: Rorschach and Anita make preparations for survival, decide their next course of action.
Warnings: Rorschach utilizes household products as creative weapons of mass destruction. Don't try this at home, kids!

Comments

[dead_mans_queen]

Anita frowned; of course she hadn't put an open bottle of perfume down her shirt. The stupid thing had just come loose, obviously. Tired of the spreading liquid and the coldness between her breasts, Anita pulled down her collar slightly and stuck her hand inside. The bottle, easy to find - her cleavage did not resemble cold glass, after all - was quickly removed. The animator brought the now half-empty object to eye-level, inspecting it

[inkblotjustice]

The older man tried not to think too hard about Anita's predicament regarding the perfume. It was bothersome, and distracting, and he was beginning to resent her a little for being so preoccupied with it. Would this woman's mind ever be fully committed to the task of surviving? He was starting to have doubts, and that made him a little worried. Perhaps it was a mistake to trust the woman as much as he had.

Not knowing her reasons for stopping, Rorschach looked behind him slowly - and immediately looked away, disgusted. The woman was taking her clothes off in plain view. Had she no sense of modesty? The temptation to strangle something - the closest object being her - grew inside of him. More so, when the cork rolled to his foot. He glanced down at it, before looking at her, the shifting inkblots in his mask unreadable, as usual (though perhaps he looked a little more rigid than Anita might remember him being.)

He turned his attention, finally, to the ghost, as Anita spoke. "The hot door? Interesting. Maybe ghost girl is worried she

[dollsy_npcs]

Allison didn't smile at the joke, if she even recognized it as such. She simply looked from the door, to Rorschach, then back to Anita, shivering. Still, she didn't speak--simply reached for Anita's hand and tried unsuccessfully to tug her forward again, away from the melted door, but towards the door to the Grand Room. She definitely didn't look happy at all--more like a scared, lost little girl, trying to get people to hide with her, because nobody would believe that the dark was a frightening and dangerous thing to face, especially alone. One might even have thought that she had her mind more on survival than even Rorschach at the moment, if she hadn't already obviously lost her own life.

[dead_mans_queen]

It took a few moments for Anita to realize Rorschach had made a joke, and even then the moment to laugh had already gone by. She sort of hoped that she'd start catching on more quickly

[inkblotjustice]

Rorschach didn't feel like joking anymore. He was anxious, and wary, and this woman was slowing him down. If he didn't have such a strict moral code, perhaps he would have a mind to leave her then and there. Survival of the fittest, after all. (And who knows what this woman might have gotten up to in her own world? Perhaps she wasn't so innocent.)

But the vigilante adhered to a higher set of ethics. It was his imprint. In a world of chaos, all that was left to do was enforce one's own set of rules. Besides, having someone with that many weapons to watch his back might be useful, if she ever stopped petting the ghosts.

"Starting to lose patience, Ms. Blake," Rorschach intoned over his shoulder, pausing before stating her name as if to put greater emphasis on it. "Have a schedule to keep. Can't stay here. Take ghost with you if you like. Otherwise, will be leaving without you."

[dollsy_npcs]

Allison pretty much ignored Rorschach; as she could say nothing to him, what else was there to do? Her focus was instead on Anita, who was acting much more friendly and forthcoming to her, even bending down to get to her level. The little girl looked up at her, lips parting silently; nothing came out, whether tortured wail, inconsolable sobs, ot articulate speech. She offered Anita a small, unsteady smile instead, which was about all she could do; the expression looked somewhat shy, maybe even apologetic if Anita stretched her empathy.