And the Hole is Where the Heart Is

[livemyowndeath]

Topher thinks he's in shock. It's really the only way to explain everything. No, wait, he's coming down from a bad acid trip and he's in shock. He thinks he should hurt; he remembers. He doesn't want to remember, but after isn't much better. Thinking isn't much better, either, so he doesn't. He just huddles down in his stolen coat and keeps

Comments

[leanhungrytype]

Congratulations, Topher, you have a shadow... A tiny shadow in furry boots and a furry coat. She's not bothering with stealth. She's just out for a nice little walk and that's all and sometimes people catch her eye.

Especially people who smell funny.

"Smell like death, you do," she says, trotting up beside him, eying him warily like that statement is something judgemental and accusing.

[livemyowndeath]

"Eep!" No, he really says it in a squeaky little voice. And he hops away from her. Hopefully Anka will forgive him for being jumpy; he's been mostly dead all day.

"Er, um, sorry 'bout that. Yeah. I probably need a shower. I'll get to that, um, soon. Probably." His eyes are open a little too wide, and he's a bit... shocky. His memory is helpfully supplying impressions of that freezer, and a look of nausea passes over his face. "Where am I?"

[leanhungrytype]

Anka raises an eyebrow at him. This is her 'why are you dumb?' expression. She doesn't use it often. Bask in it, Topher. Bask in it.

"Not that death, no. Kind of death you can't wash off." She steps closer and quite literally sniffs him. Never let it be said that Anka has any concept of personal space.

She pokes him in the chest. "Heart stopped beating, see?"

[livemyowndeath]

He stumbles back away from her again, because that's just really creepy, and he doesn't really want to be poked again, either.

"That's, that's ridiculous. I wouldn't be walking around then. I'd be dead. I'm not dead. I'm not. I'm just a little lost." He starts to run his hand through his hair and notices the blood on it. His eyes go a little wide and he looks away. "I'm not, I mean, it's. I feel a little off, but."

[cookiesandhugs]

Gladys does not understand the concept of danger. No one could ever bring themselves to hurt a little old lady like her! Nope!

So she's just wandering around, when she sees this barefoot boy. BAREFOOT! ON THE STREETS OF CHICAGO?! Not even she's that dumb. And that coat! It could hardly be keeping him warm. She clucks her tongue disapprovingly, then begins digging in her bag for clothes.

Yes. Clothes. She has enough space in there for a three piece suit to be nicely folded, to be quite honest.

"You know," she says, hurrying to catch up with him, "I'm not sure I'd be walking barefoot around here. I don't know what's gone on on that ground." And then she smiles sunnily. Because she is Gladys, dammit.

[livemyowndeath]

Topher jumps slightly when she calls out. He's had a rough day. Night. Week? He doesn't know.

"Um, yeah. I was kinda in a hurry to get out of where I was and I didn't want to stop and look." She looks kind of like a grandmother. The kind in commercials and stuff. He's not going to trust her exactly, but he'll try to be a little less jumpy.

Yeah, that'll work.

[cookiesandhugs]

Gladys blinks.

"...So you left your shoes?" she asks with raised eyebrows. Because one just does not leave one's shoes. "No problem though, because somewhere in here..." she pulls out three bags of cookies, glancing at him. "Would you be a dear and hold these? I'm sure I have some shoes in here somewhere..."

[livemyowndeath]

"Um, okay." Gladys apparently falls into the same category as nuns, which means that Topher can't bring himself to be completely rude to her and just keep on moving. Thus, he ends up holding cookies.

"Why would you have men's shoes in your bag?" Is he on Candid Camera? Wait, he's the one who started barefoot. This is just weird....