Lucas is not going to argue against a solid (if not interrupted) 7 hours of sleep. The Bedlam Boys, a.k.a. Double Trouble, came over to brave the dining hall which has been pretty routinely quiet during daylight hours. Still this is where pancakes and coffee appear and thus this is where they are summoned.
Ethan finally got some decent rest last night, after working things out with Bastian, and getting his own head on straight. The Bedlam Boy is down a working right hand, and he's wearing a sling to keep him from moving it too much. Other than that he's in clean jeans and a clean Quiet Riot tee, having undertaken a mission to replace some of his ruined stuff from the staff cabin yesterday. He has a hand on the small of Lyle's back, making sure to guide him past obstacles on his blind side. "I could eat a shoe, I'm so hungry," he mutters.
Addison is here, sitting at a table, smoking with a cup of coffee, while Snare cleans around him. It's to Addison's chagrin that one isn't supposed to go anywhere alone lately. He is a solitary creature who's quite happy being on his own, but survival has made that a less and less common occurrence. The concierge is dressed in the coat Hyacinth made for him over a black turtleneck and gray vest, plub black trousers, pointy black shoes, and those black leather gloves. The perfectly slicked back hair...he just won't stop being impeccable. He is thumbing through a newspaper that most certainly must be old at this point, and he glances up at the Trouble Twins as they make their way inside, his gray gaze following them.
Lucas murmurs, "The world tastes like aspirin. We'll see about pancakes. At least if they revisit they ain't so fuckin bad." He didn't mind being guided as much as he did mind running into things. Matt took care of his head and he said ya know, no sweat. The truth was he was up sick on and off from just being uncomfortable. He slid into a seat fingers rubbing his forehead, heels bouncing against the outside of the chair legs. "Nothin before coffee. Barrett, suuuuuup man? Snare, found something in my shit I been meaning t'copy for you."
Ethan slumps into a chair beside Lucas and tries to work out how to keep from crunching his arm in the sling against the table, finally resting the whole damn thing on the tabletop. "Pancakes sound great. And coffee, lots of coffee, with lots of sugar. So much sugar." He hasn't been eating much himself, because the pain in the broken hand makes him a little nauseous. Rat found him a joint though, and it's helping with that.
Addison's stare doesn't waver much, even as the pair invade. "Gentlemen." He glances at his watch. "I need to check on something. Terrence, come with me." To the others, "I'll return." He stands, prepared to head to the kitchen, but Snare approaches Lucas with an eager grin. "What'd ya got, Lyle? You got something good? I got something good, too, I'll show you..." But Addison is already yanking him away, causing Snare to lose grip on his broom, which clatters to the floor. They'll be back.
Lucas loves talking to Snare. The man is down for anything, and knows a bunk of the people that created the music he skates and breaks to. As such he's never had a problem letting the man go on about the glory days in that shake the hand that moved Sabbath's drums sort of way. Even if Ethan was more the metal head out of the two of them Lyle still appreciates it. That lopsided sleepy dimpled grin flashed teeth a moment before a slight wince. With a laugh he nods faintly. Yesterday was hard and words came slower with no loss of enthusing for the topic. "Yeah I found that tape going through the shit I grabbed last night. Copies of the early demo tracks of the Vandals and also that Descendants album." Seriously give Lyle old punk to skate to aaaaaaaaaaaaall damn day and he can be happy forever. Addison drags him off though and a faint grunt follows. "When you're done, man." Whole head turns to Ethan and blinks realizing they are both sitting and asks, "Snare, can you ask Rachel to make pancakes happen and she'll be our other favorite for the afternoon? Danke schoen." Hand falls to Ethan's knee giving it a squeeze and a pat. "Careful with that sling, man. Wearing your arm as a necklace don't make it invincible or nothing."
Ethan leans lightly against Lyle, just that simple contact that seems to steady him, without being likely to bring the wrath of any homophobic fratboys down on them. "Man, Addison has him on a leash, doesn't he?" he says in reference to Snare, watching the old roadie follow the concierge. "To think how many greats he's seen, talked to, carried shit for. I hope he makes it off this island. He deserves a break." He snorts in reference to the sling. "Yeah I know, I rolled the wrong way like six times last night and woke myself up."
Lucas leans in to nudge shoulder to shoulder. Resting arm on the table head goes in hand still working against the persistent headache which both sucked and was expected. The sentiment on Snare brought a snort of amusement from Lyle murmuring, "He survived the 70's. When Earth closes for business it'll be Johnny Rotten, Keith Richards, Snare, and Addison looking at them in disappointment saying something about an apocalypse is no excuse for the dereliction of duties." A sigh escapes him, "That's gonna be a lot of sweeping. More after we get done with that office this afternoon."
Lyle's never really been in the closet but he doesn't advertise in bright neon either. Still there is the glance about for possible 'threat' which is not found. Good. It didn't stop him from being borderline concerned about getting proper medical care. Really he's been wagering Julian and Marc had to know and had his back so the look around the room picking out the milling few doesn't seem to find too much concern. "Sit. I'll grab coffee."
Ethan arches a brow at Lyle. "You're gonna pour hot coffee with no depth perception? Dude, that is some seriously brave shit right there," he quips with a wink. He's not going to try and stop him though. His bestie is going to have to learn to navigate the landscape with one eye, because dammit, he's going to survive this stupid island. For his part, Ethan plays with the ashtray on the table. Rat has his cigarette supply and promised he'd be down soon. He takes out his zippo and plays with it for a bit, watching the flame dance, wanting to burn the entire island to ashes.
Lucas tilts his head back and widened that exhausted, but cocky grin, "Ethan Drake, you think danger ever fucking stopped me from getting what I want... aside that time I tried to ride Big Jenny?" Standing he left his one hand out and moved to the coffee carafes they put out for this raucous bunch. "Stick your finger in it and when it get hot well then you know where the coffee is. Not advisable to do with household cleaners. That's just a good way to lose a finger." Getting it back would be an issue but he had a fix for that too using the upside down saucer as a lid, and loading sugar packets into his side pocket. First Ethan's, sugar unloaded, and then with a faint wobble and no foul he went back for his own. Who knew skateboarding would pay off for balance recovery?
Ethan cheers him on from the sidelines like a basketball coach. "You got this, go Lucas! Go Lucas! And the man is coming in for a slam dunk that hopefully doesn't end up in his best friend's lap! GOOOOOAL!" Ok, he's not a sports guy. Not a lot of metalheads play sportsball.
Lucas is NOT above spiking a fistful of sugar packets and putting horns in the air grandstanding. Showboating these two have covered though it was short lived from the headache with a faint wince. Turning and making trip two he murmurs and breaks out some Guess Who, "No sugar is spiiiiiked my coffee. No coffee t'spill on my friend..." There's a reason they're not allowed to do karaoke on the walkies anymore. They would never quit, and oh yeah, something about an emergency thing with cultists using ghosts as on hire serial killers and fish people. Meh. Always time for a Journey sing-a-long, right?
Ethan watches Lyle with worry when his back is turned, but turns on the 100 watt 'Rob Lower' smile when he can see his face. "VICTORY!" he declares with touchdown arms, which nearly yanks his own head off because, sling you idiot. "Ow." He puts the arms back down and readjusts the cloth which is really not doing such a great job battling his stupidity.
The headache wasn't doing much for him, but it wasn't killing his good mood, at least not right now. It didn't keep him from dropping back into his seat, pinky out so it'd touch down before the coffee cup did. "Dude, I'll get the bungee ties and lash your sling to you if we gotta. I seen your ribs. They'll be pretty pissed at you. To say the least. Head gets cradled in hand once again while he takes a sip of his coffee and just holds it there for a while letting the hot beverage work at resting his jaw a bit. Being injured, he has decided, totally blows.
Ethan is doing his best to try and navigate tearing open sugar packets with his teeth, and dumping them into the mug with his off hand. He is definitely not a lefty or ambidextrous. "Yeah yeah, your threats are not doing what you hope they would," he quips with a grin.
"Okie dokie, smokie!" Those are Snare's last words to Lucas before Addison drags him off. They return a little while later, and indeed, Snare bears pancakes. Two plates full, which he sets down in front of Ethan and Lyle. "You don't owe me nuthin' for 'em!" He barks out some raspy lecture while Addison rolls his eyes. "Terrence, finish what you were doing." No 'please' from the concierge, who sits down again and lights a fresh cigarette. "What are we up to today, gentlemen." It's not exactly a question. It's almost a command, like: you will tell me, now.
Lucas hurts like hell but the mischievous grin makes an appearance all the same. "Have youmet me? Your warning is only encouraging me." But lo' pancakes. "Thanks Snare." The smell of the pancakes he was hoping would at least help. Really that acrid tang in the back of his throat was already finding argument with it. With little effort he started cutting small bites with the side of his fork. Could he tell Barrett the truth? Sure. Does he? Not here and now. The answer to what they were up to today comes by way of him drawing his walkie up and speaking into it with a murmur that fought to ride out the good mood, "Ladies and Gentlemen...and also Candice... of the Eager Beaver lodge. At the 9 o'clock hour we'll be doing open requests for song requests and dedications." The mischief was there nit he energy behind it was not up to his usual 6-11.
"Thanks Snare!" Ethan calls after the guy before he begins dumping syrup on his pancakes awkwardly. "Man, you don't realize how shit you are with your off hand til it's all you got," he mutters. He grins at Lyle's radio performance and shrugs at Addison. "No idea, boss hasn't told us what's up today yet."
Rat enters the room like nothing wrong is happening on the island, with his usual swagger, blue hair, and kilt. He has a messenger bag draped across his body and from it he pulls out a pack of Marlboros which get tossed in front of Ethan, and a cigar box which is opened and presented to Addison, "My liege," he offers the concierge.
"The 'boss' aside," Addison isn't doing much to hide his obvious disdain of Roen and his authority, "tell me what you both know of our current situation, if anything." He rolls his eyes as Lucas uses the radio for silliness, though he is smirking a little. Then Rat is presenting him with cigars, which he takes with a single nod of his slicked-back head. "Thank you, Rat. Very good." Just like this is all perfectly normal. Snare is bopping around in the corner with his broom and his headphones on; he's working on a major drum solo on one of the tables. Addison hasn't stopped him yet.
Lucas tried to poke at his pancakes. A small bite. Candice squaks back on the radio "This is for emergencies only and some of us are still sleeping! Screw. Off. Lyle!" Lyle almost set the walkie down when the chiding came over it. The faintest of smiles in a weary expression leaves him shaking his head a bit, "Awww, you know better than to poke the beast, baby." Game. on. Evenly he intoned, "Woooould love to Candice, but some of us have work to do. You want I can regale you with the details later." He pauses and closes his good eye trying to see if he can hear a scream of frustration or something breaking...somewhere. Sadly, no dice.
Now the walkie is set down and Lyle pokes at his pancake some not really tearing into it. He lets Ethan answer that question first. Coffee cup is reclaimed and just before it is drank there's a pause and is set down; the back so Lyle's hand coming up to his mouth in a pause. He can listen and get a napkin and go take care of his face at the same time. A murmur of "Gross." is all one really needs to know.
"You probably know more than I do," Ethan notes to Addison. And everything I know you saw on that video tape." Including his unintentional killing of Violet Mahoney. He looks over at Lyle not really eating and frowns. "Yo, Rat, hit him up."
Rat digs into a pocket and pulls out a baggie full of joints, claiming one to be handed over to Lyle. "Helps with nausea and shit. Light up cuz you need to eat, man."
Ethan's zippo is lit by the time Lyle has the joint in hand.
Lyle isn't answering Addison at all, which gets a raised brow from the concierge. Did I say he took a cigar from the box? Because he does. And if they're ready to smoke, he'll even light it up. No point in saving for a special occasion that may never come. "Those idiots didn't listen to me," he says to Ethan. "You two can be counted on to act when the time comes, can't you?" He even smiles. Because the boys won't let him down...right?
Lucas murmurs a thanks to Rat, other hand now free slapping him in the shoulder in thanks. He sits to be greeted by open flame. What he does admit is little, "All the damn drainage is ruining the taste of pretty much everything and making my insides feel like they wanna be outsides. They're fucking called 'insides' for a reason. We named that shit." Still, the drag was good and slowly there's a bob of his head in agreement. "We're fucking getting outta here, Barrett. We all got shit to do. Uhhh Cult has tunnels all over. At least one is on the other side with a truck. Radio's about fixed. We found some weird wires. Roxie wants to find out where they go, if you're free later I think I might need to hit up you and Cassandra on that project." he slips in. "That's like... all I know other than something about 6 more days or something for cult ...whatever anniversary."
Another drag, eye closing. He holds onto that one and after a moment exhales slowly, "They got dead people from the county in their lair thing so ya know if they got their 13, if they got em can we jut like... fucking go and leave them about their business and let a church or some shit worry about this?"
And Lyle's admission about drainage makes Ethan swallow his mouthful of pancakes and turn green. Even weed can't save him from eye-juice description induced nausea. And...he's off, racing to find the nearest bathroom to puke up his breakfast into. He won't be back for a while. Rat looks chagrined and follows him out calling back, "He was always a pussy about gross stuff!"
After Ethan goes, Addison gives Lyle a..."reassuring" smile. It's a little creepy, of course, but he can't help that. "Don't worry. We will take care of you." He seems interested in the mention of the 'weird wires.' "Where were these found? Yes, I'd like to see them." He seems a little more outwardly tense than usual, which is saying something for a man who is normally completely unflappable.
Lucas watches Ethan go. In a small way he's relieved. Joint pinched between two fingers the other three get aimed at Rat, "Not...a word." When Rat hods up his hands with that ridiculous laugh of his and the 'tell him what?' comment Lyle seems satisfied enough. He takes another drag hoping it washes away the general malaise and waves it in a little circle. Exhale and explanation go hand in hand. "Something something hidden cameras. She says she knows about em. Wants to see where the wires get back to so we can see whoa nd what they're watching. Though really they'll be watching us put holes in the wall, but it might... give us an idea. Sit still too long... bad shit man."
"Yesssss." Addison practically hisses that word, rolling the cigar around between his long fingers. "I would like to know what they see as well. The more information we have, the greater our chances at coming out alive. Attempts to escape without that knowledge first will likely imperil us." He takes a sip from his cold cup of coffee. Maybe he likes it cold.
Lucas murmurs, "S'why I like you Barrett. You think so I don't have to." A dimpled grin makes a ghost of an appearance. "What would it tell us. I do how-do-I-get-the-thing not Illuminati conspiracy gambits." Fork pokes a the pancake again without much progress. The coffee is given another try, but more to holding the heat against his jaw for a while before swallowing.
Addison smirks. He knows it's true. It's always true. "It always pays to know how something works, Lucas. Let's say we take off in these tunnels or even try the boats, and we still don't have most of the pieces -- what then? Something could still catch us off guard. No, we should learn as much as possible without endangering ourselves further. So we have to be expedient."
Lucas tilts his head resting the side of his head in his hand. Eye fixes on Addison to have something not moving. "Right... so they're weird. We're fucked. What... what's the next step? Radio, cables?" Lyle at leas tried to eat par of his pancake. Slow progress is still progress.
Colorado arrives from Eager Beaver Lodge - Great Room.
Colorado seems kind of hungover, when he wanders into the dining hall. He has a bottle of one of the mysterious herbal syrups he makes in one hand. The other hand is over his eyes; he's flying mostly blind. When he realizes Addison and Lyle are here, he comes over, approaching Lyle from the good side. "Fellas," he says, also sounding hungover. "Lyle, how the hell are ya."
Addison, still all dressed up these days, is drinking cold coffee and smoking. Snare bops around with his headphones on, cleaning. "Colorado," Addison greets, as cold and remote as ever. He taps some ash into the ashtray, which is already pretty full. Maybe he was here awhile today.
Lucas is slouched in his seat idly poking at his pancake. A drag is pulled off the joint that's almost done. Colorado's question gets a faint grin and a chuckle. Head in hand he's still on the waking up train apparently. "Fuckin amazing." He chuckled and sips his coffee again. "Makin a plan. How you feel about puttin holes in walls?"
"Mr. Barrett, how you holding up." Colorado sets the bottle down with a clunk. He claps Lyle on the shoulder, gently. "Love it. You gonna fire up the riding lawnmower?" Finding water, he fills a cup and doses it with ruby-colored syrup, gives it a stir. It smells like berries and vinegar.
Addison, it should be noted, is smoking a cigar. It might be the only consumable he's willing to take from anyone -- Rat, in this case. He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at whatever it is Colorado is doing that to that water. "Holding up well enough, I suppose, Colorado. I haven't seen much of you as of late."
Lucas didn't miss a beat on that one and murmurs, "You try paging Candice?" Down, but not out, he's still taking the little bits of humor where he can put them. Rubbing his head he tries for another idle bite of his pancake though he's doing a much better job of pushing it around his plate than consuming it. The humor ht his eye though he considered, attention fixing on what Colorado's mixing. "Could just take the mower down into the tunnels. Rev it us take care of all our- Heeeey Addison?" Turning his head back. Blink blink. "What's stopping us from flooding fuel tanks into the tunnels and fucking lighting it up?"
Colorado grins stupidly at both of them. "You can't begrudge a man spendin' a little time with a beautiful woman." He leans over to kiss Lyle on the crown of his head. Slinging himself into a chair, he downs some of the soft drink he's mixed up. "I'd protest," he says to Lyle, "except I'm convinced you're unkillable."
"Nothing's stopping us." Addison takes a drag off the cigar and blows one of those square-shaped smoke rings. He leans back in the chair, eyebrows raising briefly as he smirks at Colorado, but then he's looking at Lyle again. "Except one of them might be our way out. Perhaps that doesn't matter anymore, though."
Lucas narrows his eye a bit thoughtfully focused on his pancake still near whole. It's not the affection that hardens that stare, jaw tightening faintly, "Yeeeeees, I am, Colorado." The fork is twirled in his fingers. mulling this over in his head, both the focus that he really needs to be unkillable and also the tunnels. "It don't burn forever. It's not Greek fire."
"Maybe it doesn't matter to you," Colorado says to Addison, dryly. He swigs the fragrant drink and closes his eyes. "Kinda matters to the rest of us." He shrugs. "It don't burn forever, 'less there's flammable stuff we don't know about. Ground gas, maybe. Lotta unknowns there."
Addison pulls on the cigar again. "It's another factor worth considering. There are a lot of variables we don't know. It's time we isolated a few of them. Experimented. Took chances -- but with a plan in place, for once."
Lucas ran his tongue alone his lower lip thoughtfully. "Well, then we know we did a good job. Bodies can't be snacked on. Take out whatever's down there. " His eye closed listening, fingers rubbing his head holding his ruined eye. "We need to get... lawyer guy... get the word out. Try... t'help the other victims that can be. Isabella, the guy with the bat. Hell even the gal hauntin Emily. See what we can do for em. Good for them and us." He winced trying to organize thoughts, hand coming up hunting words for it. "Two... iiiiis the Tarp still in the pool room? If so, why? Can we keep the others in the maintenance shed and how did the electric company get from the big house to the shed?
"That's why you're the best, Lyle," Colorado says, eyes still closed, smiling at the ceiling with his head tipped back. He lazily opens his eyes to look at Addison. "Now, I ain't smart enough to keep up with y'all on this. What kind of experiments?"
"Such as 'fire in the hole,' Colorado," Addison says, his lip twitching upwards. He begins to get to his feet, eyeing up Lucas. "We have some of the details on these people. Names, apart from Isobel's. Thomas and I had a mind to lure them in and trap them if they can't be reasoned with. If they can, so the better." He puts out the cigar and smooths back his slick hair. "We'll discuss this more later. If you learn anything else, let me know." Then he's off, whistling for Snare to follow along after him.
Lucas snorts a chuckle, half a dimpled grin coming back to him. "Word, Barrett." Remaining eye a slit to Colorado the amusement stayed in place murmuring, "Eeeh, I ain't at my best. NOt yet. Is it real bad tat I'm pissed after all this time we're just now finding out about these tunnels? You know how bad I fuckin wanna skate a fullpipe?"
Colorado grins back at Addison, ferociously, and fingerguns at him with a click of his tongue. When he looks back at Lyle, it's with wry fondness. "Nobody else wanted to help those little kid ghosts, Lucas, so shut your pie hole." As long as he doesn't have to know what's underneath those bandages, he seems okay with the eye situation. Then he laughs. "Yeah, I just bet you do. I'd say the same, but I don't, not really, not when the place could be full of Christ knows what." He sits forward, elbows on the table, studying Lyle.
Lucas shied a wide, earned grin, "Heeey stop it. Sometimes kids have a bad time of heatings. Can't turn on my own. That'd be like... totally mondo bogus, dude." Thankfully 'Rado's lived in L.A. and could translate Cali back into English. "Eeeh maybe. About the tunnels. Maybe you got more common sense than I do man." He falls silent and shoves his pancake at Colorado. "Eat. I can't." He checked his blue swatch, finally found again, and pulls the thing of ibuprofen out to take three more. "You know I'm just razzin your shit about Candice right?"
"Got a fever, probably," Colorado says, with considerable sympathy. He drains the rest of his drink, then pulls over the pancake. "'More common sense', that's somethin' nobody has ever said about me. Yet if someone beats me in the race to the bottom it's you." Tucking a forkful of pancake in his mouth, he glances sideways at Lyle. Grins, closed-mouthed, and swallows. "Yeah, amigo. I know. Leastwise, I figured. She's a real good woman. I know you know that."
Lucas shakes his head, smile turning more thoughtful, "Nah. Can't afford to. 'S why all this. Just... yeah." He takes it in stride. Falling apart is no fun, no good. Matthew's warning hanging over him like the spoon of Damocles still. Reluctantly he modded with a chuckle, "Yeah. I suppose she is." An accusatory squint followed and he worked to hide the grin but some of it came through. "You are not allowed to tell her I said that. There's already no living with her since I agreed to go to college."