[day twenty-one] morning

[itselegant]

Ah -

[there's static, first. occasionally, broken by mumbling. and then, a slamming noise like fist against radio. surprisingly, the static settles.]

Looks like only the local is working right now...

Is everyone okay? [dumb question, but hey.]

Any injuries, I can fix, and I got supplies if you need 'em.

Comments

[comeseemyhook]

No injuries here other than minor scrapes. The damage is rather extensive though.

[itselegant]

You know what area you're in?

[comeseemyhook]

I think it was... San Gwann. I can't say I know where it is in relation to much else.

[itselegant]

It's a couple miles from a coast, I think.

[aequitastwin]

What sort of supplies?

[itselegant]

Mostly food.

I got a couple guns I'd be willing to part with.

[aequitastwin]

Now that... I could fucking use. What you want in return?

[itselegant]

[pause.]

What you got?

[justhitjackpot]

Yeah. As okay as anybody can be in this dump.

Supplies, huh? What kind of supplies?

[itselegant]

It ain't that bad.

[...he forgets this is not normal for other people.]

Food, mostly. Got a couple weapons, too.

[justhitjackpot]

You don't say...where are you, and how far is it from San Gwann?

[itselegant]

Zabbar. Think that's about four or five miles south.

[limitedrun]

Yeah, just great. [Griffin sounds different. He's attempting his normal snarky bravado, but he's distinctly worn and out of it. Blood loss will do that.]

That you, Robert?

[itselegant]

Griff?

...don't sound great.

[limitedrun]

[He makes a disgruntled noise at his name being said on air. But Griffin can't muster himself to be more annoyed than that.]

You don't sound great. [Even on his worst day, Griffin doesn't normally resort to tactics that childish.]

[itselegant]

[see, this is just reinforces that Griffin is, actually, five. ...except not right now because Robert knows something is Wrong.]

Where are you?