It's all right, John. It is. It's been terribly rough on all of us, and as for me I got wrapped up in my Inmate. Flagg seemed to go crazy after anyone with magic. Tried hard to get rid of all of them in different ways.
Are you all right? I'm a bit nibbled on but I will be.
Yeah... but you deserved a heads up. Better late than ever, right?
I'm-- fine. Makes two of us who are wrapped up in our inmates.. But again, mine is no magician. [ Just a way too capable chemist, in his opinion. His voice is shaken. ] You know... it means a lot to me to have one. How are you coming along with yours? Did you enjoy Paris?
Mozenrath and I are getting on better, but it took being chewed on by monsters for us to hit our stride with each other. Paris was...very pretty. Very clean and very crowded. Even the pigeons were cleaner than in a regular city.
I'm happy to hear that. Nothing bad to come without something good out of it, is it. [ Unfortunately he can't say the very same thing, so he falls silent. ]
Stildyne had come in on the same wave as Locke, and though they hadn't had much dealing after that, he'd considered the man as someone with whom he had some common ground. The common ground of 'what the hell kind of a place is this', but maybe that was the best kind.
Seeing the man looking worse for wear, Stildyne frowned, and meandered over to sit next to him. He was a little damaged himself after the fight, but considering the shape his face had been in already, a few scratches and a bandaged arm barely made a dent.
John looked up from his reclined position to the man coming in, and barely a second later turns again, the same thoughtful gesture. He glances at his bottle noticing it's empty, and reaches for another one before resuming his position and looking at the man who has taken seat beside him.
He remembers Stildyne, from another, futuristic universe; well, not necessarily, just either years in the future or past of John's earth, he remembered him saying. Hand to chin, he raised an eyebrow.
"You look hurt," He pointed matter-of-factly, a little less coordinated than he'd like to be.
"Love-taps," Stildyne dismissed lightly. He wasn't quite cheerful. Maybe cheerful's little brother or second cousin. The battle was over; that meant time to stand down and take a breath. But doing better, emotionally, than Locke-- if he was any judge.
John smiled a faint smile which didn't reach his eyes, a finger idly running through the opening of the dark bottle.
"Been better." He sighed, not enough energy in him to fake. "I suppose it's a given after all the crazy." Everyone was exhausted, at least he had that. But most people were rejoicing, calming down after the October mess, and there was none of those two things in John's face.
He didn't outright look at Stildyne and didn't avoid his eyes either - just glanced at him once or twice.
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Would you prefer to talk over the network or in person, Mr. Locke?
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In person... if you don't mind. I mean, if you're not busy.
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Hello Chromie.
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And for how long wasn't he there? Nobody knows for sure...
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Are you all right? I'm a bit nibbled on but I will be.
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I'm-- fine. Makes two of us who are wrapped up in our inmates.. But again, mine is no magician. [ Just a way too capable chemist, in his opinion. His voice is shaken. ] You know... it means a lot to me to have one. How are you coming along with yours? Did you enjoy Paris?
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Mozenrath and I are getting on better, but it took being chewed on by monsters for us to hit our stride with each other. Paris was...very pretty. Very clean and very crowded. Even the pigeons were cleaner than in a regular city.
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I'm happy to hear that. Nothing bad to come without something good out of it, is it. [ Unfortunately he can't say the very same thing, so he falls silent. ]
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Seeing the man looking worse for wear, Stildyne frowned, and meandered over to sit next to him. He was a little damaged himself after the fight, but considering the shape his face had been in already, a few scratches and a bandaged arm barely made a dent.
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He remembers Stildyne, from another, futuristic universe; well, not necessarily, just either years in the future or past of John's earth, he remembered him saying. Hand to chin, he raised an eyebrow.
"You look hurt," He pointed matter-of-factly, a little less coordinated than he'd like to be.
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"You?"
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"Been better." He sighed, not enough energy in him to fake. "I suppose it's a given after all the crazy." Everyone was exhausted, at least he had that. But most people were rejoicing, calming down after the October mess, and there was none of those two things in John's face.
He didn't outright look at Stildyne and didn't avoid his eyes either - just glanced at him once or twice.
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PS. Are you drunk?
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..well maaybe a little. celebration and all that1
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