> @BROKEBACKSTAB | @ALL

[handsomefoil]

Hygiene issues aside, is anyone actually enjoying anything about Paris?

Comments

[i_swear]

@BROKEBACKSTAB Didn't pick it. Don't imagine you did either.

@BROKEBACKSTAB And just because I'm letting you along this time don't mean it's gonna happen again.

[handsomefoil]

[ ooh tough guy, this should be fun ]

@LONERANGER True

@LONERANGER I'll try not to overstay my welcome
@LONERANGER but who knows? Maybe you'll love me

[i_swear]

[-100 approval]

@BROKEBACKSTAB Not off to a good start.

[handsomefoil]

@LONERANGER Not fond of my brand of jokes eh?
@LONERANGER promise i'll make it up to you

[i_swear]

@BROKEBACKSTAB Making it worse.

@BROKEBACKSTAB Less bullshit. More doing. I'm leaving in 15 minutes.

[In other words: be there, or you're out of the booze deal.]

[handsomefoil]

[ he was being serious that time!!! ]

@LONERANGER Roger that. Where at

[i_swear]

[Insert a nebulous address here because I'm too lazy to coordinate anything real at 12am at night.]

@BROKEBACKSTAB Don't be late.

[handsomefoil]

[ that's how we all do, i feel you on this. also (un)fortunately henry is never late unless he wants to be :) so have fun with that. he doesn't reply back and prepares to move out. ]

TIMESKIP

[i_swear]

[Scavenging while people are still around is...different. He's used to it for the most part, considering he'd already done more than enough of it for war supplies, but for alcohol— for luxury goods in the middle of a damn city— makes this whole thing feel like even more of a dream. But he can feel the rough pull of fabric in his hands from the satchel he's slung over his shoulder, the off-balance sloshing of bottles pressing against his back. Nothing imagined could be this real, and at the moment there's no helping where he is. What he's stuck doing.

His heavy boots drag over the doorstep of the boarding house he's rented out. It's a nice place, given the state of the city. Too nice to put up with the mud Joel clearly doesn't mind dragging in with him, already heading upstairs towards his room by the time the old woman that owns the place calls out a distant, homely greeting.

He also doesn't answer her.

Cracking the doorknob to his room, he doesn't hold the door for Henry. But there's space for him in that wide room— lovingly furnished, and entirely unsuited to the man that's currently dumping out bottles of rare, aged spirits across a hundred year old bedspread.]

[handsomefoil]

[ Henry always made sure not to step on any toes, especially early on in building a rapport with someone. This guy, this Joel— he was a man of very few words, brutal honesty, and a tough shell to crack. Regular conversation wouldn't work on this guy. He saw more value in actions.

In place of Joel's cold shoulder, he greets the woman in familiar French, a language he never got to use anymore but could never forget. His job required him to be friendly and personable without being too memorable, and he toed a fine line with everyone he met. Sometimes it doesn't always goes as planned, but he always has backup for something like that.

Fortunately, he doesn't expect another person to hold the door for him and slips past the opening to make himself comfortable. Well, at least as comfortable as possible. During their hunt, Henry had managed to use his sneaking abilities and acrobatics to get into higher floors without having to use front doors, taking advantage of open windows and crevices. He's a slim guy, if a bit on the tall side, but he gets the job done.

He digs one that he'd swiped on his own from the inside of his jacket pocket. A small bottle of absinthe. Not his usual fare, but one he'd gratefully swipe from an upper-class household. ]

This's a good haul.

[i_swear]

[He's not subtle. Not by a long shot. Maybe a few degrees less of a bull before the outbreak hit, before the breakup, the arguments over who saw Sarah when— and how many times he had to cancel on her or straight up work through it all. It was the foundation for everything else that calcified overtop of it later on, and it's part of why he doesn't waste time on niceties anymore.

Joel digs through the clinking bottles to fish up something dusty: clearly held onto by its owner for the day the conflict ends. Pulling it up to the light of an oil lamp, he narrows his eyes at the liquid sloshing around inside of it just to make sure.] Whiskey. Irish, if the label's right.

[Their end of the bargain done and dealt with, apparently. From there, he turns his attention to what Henry's holding.] It'll keep until we get our asses out of here.

Catch.

[Better put those reflexes to good use, partner.]

[handsomefoil]

[ Henry's attention is grabbed, looking up from his stash, when the word whiskey is mentioned. Effortlessly, he catches the bottle and trades it for the absinthe. Not a huge fan of the stuff, even though he isn't being particularly picky during this time period.

He looks it over, brushing his thumb over the fingerprints on the glass, not saying anything. This hunt was risky, they both knew this much, as people held onto what little they had for dear life. He doesn't need booze to survive, but like hell he was going for so long without it. ]

Never thought I'd get to try such ancient stuff. I'm half prepared to have the inside of my throat go up in flames.

[ He opens it up, hovering it below his nose for a whiff. Immediately recoils. ]

Whew.

[i_swear]

[Joel snorts the second Henry inhales— and recoils. Sinking into the edge of the mattress, broad arms folding, there might actually be the twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, though with the strong shadows cast by candlelight, it's hard to tell for sure.]

Not afraid of it, are you?

[handsomefoil]

[ Well, Henry is too distracted by the smell to worry about Joel smirking. He'd find the reaction to be a rare sparkle of a gem though, despite having only known him for a short amount of time. Something, you know- just a small feeling, tells him that Joel is generally a very stoic and serious person.

He scoffs. ]

A little bit.

[ But he goes for it and takes a sip. Fortunately for his pride, he doesn't gag or cough (too hard), but he has to make a face. He hums low in his chest out of discomfort, then shakes his head as the sharp taste goes down hot.]

Hrrmgh, wow. [ Coughs. ]

[i_swear]

That good, huh?

[There's a low chuckle lurking there across the tip of his tongue, it comes out as a tired wheeze— a suppressed puff of gruff air as he lifts one heavy, banged-up palm.]

Give it here.

[Share a little, Henry.]

[handsomefoil]

[ His voice comes out tight, then breaks when he chuckles.]

Yep, good. Bloody strong.

[ Henry doesn't think it tastes that great, for the record but he can't deny there is an exquisite underlying taste to it. Also does its job and he still has his sense of taste in tact, so. That's a plus. He has no issue with passing it back to Joel and instead makes a grab for his absinthe back. ]

So y'do this often?

[i_swear]

Drinking? ['Or stealing' is the half of his question left unsaid as he tips the bottle back, easing into the heat of it without hesitation. It's bitter as hell, sure, and it's strong as a kick to the chest, but there's a vibrancy to it he's been long, long without.

Living in the slums and the wilds, they don't do you many favors.]

[handsomefoil]

I get the feeling you drink often enough to down this swill like you are.

[ Yeah he means stealing. Pausing long enough to show that it's definitely not about the drinking, he continues: ]

It's a good skill to have, anyway.

[i_swear]

Trust me. This ain't swill.

[It's better than anything he's had in ages; a point he proves when he pulls another long sip down for good measure.]

And yeah, I do. [This time his stare's direct: he's clearly fallen back on the topic of stealing, and he's not exactly dodging the subject. To some people, it might even read hard enough to be intimidating.] Been a long time since money was a thing where I'm from.

[handsomefoil]

[ Henry pulls the briefest of faces, but tries not to look so ungrateful for having any booze at all. Especially at the expense of other poor people. Then takes another mouthful of the absinthe, thinking he should keep the drinking light. He's got another drinking session after this...

Fortunately, he is rarely intimidated and just meets Joel's gaze with a cool one of his own. The phrase could mean a lot of things but something about the phrasing leads him to think that Joel's home world(?) probably suffered something massive to have money lose its worth. ]

Mmn, sounds like a dystopian nightmare. Every man for themselves?

[i_swear]

Somethin' like that.

[Maybe it's the fact that he is taking the edge off via drinking, or how willing Henry was to go along with a whole lot of stealing— no questions asked— but Joel's not about to shy up when it comes to the world he left behind. Why would he? It wasn't precious to him. Wasn't good or tolerable in any sense of the word. Ellie was the last decent thing left in it after Tess died off, and that doesn't make up for a shit life for everybody else.]

People got real sick, lost their minds. Whole thing turned into an epidemic overnight. [He leans back across his bed, boots up on the covers, ankles crossed, bottle resting in his lap. It keeps the sting of his memories shut down and locked off. Reminds him where he is now.]

[handsomefoil]

[ Ah, so his dystopian nightmare theory pulled through...with a dash of some version of a zombie apocalypse thrown in there too. At least Joel is starting to talk to him now, so that's a start. During the hunt, it had been just grunts and hand signals at best so, it's progress.

You never know when you'll need a guy like Joel alongside ya in a weird mission to correct history. Maybe they won't be friends (Joel doesn't strike him as a man who makes friends) but at least someone who would be willing to work with him.

He stares off into the distance, swirling the drink around lazily. ]

On the fly training it was, eh. How long has it been that way?

[i_swear]

Twenty years almost.

[A long, long time. Not that he was alone for all of it. The thought's a dismal cloud on his current mood— souring his expression involuntarily— which means it's probably a good thing he's not bothering to look directly at Henry.

Weathered hands still hooked tight around the neck of the bottle he's holding, drinking because it feels like something worth doing in the moment. Better than sitting. Better than dwelling.]

Worked in construction before that. Was a contractor down in Dallas. [Thieving wasn't in his blood, that's for damn sure.]

[handsomefoil]

[ Wow, 20... that's. That's certainly some time. While it's not hard to imagine Joel as a construction sorta guy, seeing as Henry has known him for all about a few hours give or take a couple, he's also very good at thieving. ]

Guess twenty years can do that.

[ While pressing on the state of his weird zombie-AU of Texas was really tempting, he manages to reel back that curiosity by taking another pull of his drink. Its burn distracts him long enough to quell that urge, but for how long he's not sure. Liquid courage might make him say something reckless. ]

Quite an eclectic resume you've got there.