[Location - A park, during zero G]

[personaldemon]

Many people might avoid the open-air spaces-- and wisely so-- during the instances of zero gravity that are intermittently plaguing Sojourner Deep. Not Jason Blood, at least, not at this point in time. He is on the edge of a footpath of polished wooden planks, one hand hanging on to the railing to keep himself from drifting upward, his feet stubbornly planted on the path itself, as if he were trying to assert a proper vertical orientation against this nonsense.

In his other hand he has a rock, a smooth white quartz pebble scavenged from the dry streambed below. He rubs it over and over in his palm, touching the smooth stone with his thumb, gazing upward at the sky arching overhead.

And then with a slightly awkward twist he cranes back and throws it, out towards that expanse of sky, sending the rock hurtling upward with some decent force behind it and no gravity at all to slow its progress. He squints up after it, shading his eyes with his hand, trying to follow the path of the rock disappearing against the expanse beyond.

[OOC: Open to anyone but I'd love for Jason to meet someone he hasn't yet!]

Comments

[personaldemon]

"Hnhm." Jason looks back up at the blue sky, but of course it doesn't tell him much about the nature of the hypothetical barrier. "You look like the sort of person who innately dislikes rules and bounds. Perhaps that would be why you got so many warnings."

Jason's voice is neutral and dispassionate, a colorless sort of voice, accented with the notes of the ex-patriate Briton-- the edges of crisp pronunciation rubbed off by long tumbling about with American English and other tongues, perhaps.

He crosses his forearms on the rail, gazes sidelong at Spike a moment, before returning that gaze out to look over the park.

"The dispenser blood is serving adequately?"

[vampapalooza]

At least Jason is having the decency to roll with the conversational tide, and not question Spike's attempted segue. Isn't it so much easier when everyone is going along with the conversation ball rules.

Spike prefers to spice things up with a bit of light argument-- not serious, just arguing horseplay-- but he has seen that Jason dislikes that particular game and will not play it.

He frowns, thoughtfully. Was Jason already at the end of his tether in the other place? That would explain a lot.

Glancing over at the big man, leaning on the rail, Spike snorts softly at the dry remark. "It's the hair, isn't it. 'Gelus is always after me to grow it back out, let the curls have free reign. Reckons it would be like a sneak attack, make people get softened up seein' me lookin' like a flippin' Botticelli angel or some such bollocks and then my personality cutting through. Like a moray eel."

He raises his brows with a little grin, stealing a quietly assessing glance at Jason. He doesn't look any different than usual. But of course he isn't the type to telegraph it, is he?

He gives a little nod at the question about the dispenser blood. "So far, so good, ta. I'll know if it doesn't do any good when it becomes evident it's not working. But I reckon I've got a good week or two before that'll be noticeable."

[personaldemon]

The vampire.... talks about hair, and his father, and eels, or something, which Jason only vaguely processes. He keeps his feet wedged down against the planks of the walkway with some effort, and one arm wrapped around the rail, and with the other he rubs absently at the side of his head, the far side, away from the vampire.

let me out, let me taste
our newest mutual cage
i'll mark the walls and pace
the bounds placed upon our rage.

Hnh. Jason rolls his neck a little, side to side. Back in the other place he had taken to chopping wood. He supposes he should find something physical to do here. Once the gravity is sorted. If the gravity is sorted.

What are they talking about? Blood. Yes. Right.

"Mmm. Well. I shall keep my fingers crossed. Is there something with which I may assist you?"

[vampapalooza]

Jason's not the only one here who's at the end of his tether, not by a long chalk. Is Jason the type to express himself outward, so to speak? He doesn't seem the type to seek an audience. He seems like a big cat, the type that would go off on its own, far away, if it were wounded.

Spike rests his elbow on his thigh, face propped against his hand and the pinky finger of said hand idly in his mouth. He chews the fingernail lightly, not consciously aware of the tic.

And he isn't exactly problem-free, either. But there's no sense looking for trouble. So far, the blood from the dispensers seems to be doing fine. Oh, he's hungry all the time, sure-- the stuff is thin and unsatisfying, and it doesn't seem to matter how much of it he drinks. He's drunk himself sick and still felt the dull urgency of hunger.

But his strength seems to be as usual, and his speed, and stamina. If the blood weren't up to snuff, surely those would be affected. Of course, it's only been a short while, and he's got the constitution of a pit pony, as Angelus is so found of pointing out.

"I can stretch it a bit, with animals," Spike remarks, suddenly. "I can go three, maybe four, weeks, that way. Before it'll affect me."

He takes a little breath. There is no sense getting himself wound up over a stupid hypothetical. All the same, he supposes he'd better be serious about snooping about in the infirmary. At least he could ask some questions. If they use synthetic blood for human transfusions, surely it must be enough like human blood he'd be all right.

He swallows at the thought of human blood, and takes a little breath. In a light tone, he remarks, "Well, I'm going to try and blag some of the real stuff, if they've got any at the surgery. I'd appreciate it if you'd try not to set any fires."

[personaldemon]

"I suppose that's convenient," Jason says without commitment of any sort, and after a three second delay, to the ... confesssion? Admittance? Whatever-- regarding animal blood.

Then the vampire finally gets to the meat-- haa-- of the conversation. Jason offers a thin cynical half-smile.

"Oh, it is all yours. I've no desire to return there. Very well, then, splendid to have that sorted."

He lets go of the rail with one hand, turning in preparation for the stubborn walk-shuffle that one is having to use to get around right now, with the gravity acting up.