The puba of the styles like miles and shit.

[youdaman]

WHO: Max Guevara, and OPEN.
WHAT: Her arrival.
WHERE: A bench outside of town square (and onward depending on where the thread goes.)
WHEN: Early morning after breakfast, DAY 45

Comments

[couldbebatman]

There was only one cure for the way Don felt when he woke up. He didn't feel as bad as some of the others, but he was also more familiar with hangovers than, say, Jim Kirk. So he wasn't whining in some public trick journal.

He was out, looking for cigarettes and the hair of the dog. He looked as unrumpled as he could without benefit of a dry cleaner, because no matter where he was Don still hadn't sunk to bad hygiene.

The girl in the middle of the street looked unreal. Like a comic book, leather clothing hugging her trim body and Don had to blink back his surprise at seeing such a vision. It was too bad the bright sun was lancing into his eyes at the same time.

"Miss?" he said, stepping forward.

[youdaman]

Instantly Max was on guard. She'd already been mulling over the fact that she had no change of clothes outside of the leather jacket and pants, but now she was having to face some of the other denizens of the city and she just wasn't ready for that yet.

"...Yeah?" The words while spoken cool, carried traces of her apprehension. She wasn't the trusting sort.

[couldbebatman]

The man who approached her might almost have belonged here. That is, if Peaksville had been a working, living town, and Don had been perhaps visiting from the big city.

"You look lost," he said, certain instincts difficult to shake off despite the odd circumstances. Maybe she was with some sort of biker gang; he'd heard about those, like that film with Brando.

[youdaman]

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," Max returned. Her tone despite her surroundings was biting and irritated. She didn't like not knowing.