Log:Show Me Yours
"I suppose I was more using you as a sounding board. It helps to ask these things out loud. Well, it helps me," the Adjudicator amends with a slightly wry smile. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to imply you should know any of the answers." He twists around a little, considering the replicator machine. "Maybe that thing can produce headache medicine." To the Caregiver's question of earthquakes, he gives a small nod. "Yes, but they're people. Nobody's dying here. But when people died on the island, or we thought they did, they woke up, here. And now more of us are here, even though some of us don't remember dying or being about to die."
The Lover is always a willing cuddlebug, it seems, remaining on the couch until the Healer returns, and happily resuming a comfortable closeness when she returns, crisscrossing arms as they both lightly hold one another, and eventually laying her head on the other woman's shoulder. Though, it should be said, she's been sipping away at that mug for a while, and may seem a little more... liquid in her movements, droopy and languid even for her. Sprawl. However, for all of that, her brow furrows as the conversation goes. "Why are we talking about this stuff? It's all depressing. We should really just enjoy it while we're here. Some people died. But they're back! Isn't that nice? I think it's nice."
The Caregiver watches everyone sort of go back to their own conversations. She's still confused, but the fact that no one else seems to be actively freaking out keeps her at least a little calm as well. She bites her lip, unsure what to say, or what to do- other than start carefully picking up shards of glass with her fingers, trying to not get cut. She looks around for a trash bin of some kind, and if she doesn't find one, will just carefully place the bits of dangerous debris off to the side against a wall where it's less likely to hurt someone. Mention of 'the island' just gets a blank look from her. "That... err... ok?", she says, and looks around. "... I... I'm going to go, uhm... check if I have a dustpan in my room?", she murmurs, to no one in particular, and then starts padding back the way she came. Maybe she really is going to look for a dustpan, maybe she's just looking to escape the weirdness a bit. Either way? She skitters off. She'll be back- not like she has much of a choice!
The Healer gives a warmer smile, though her lips part barley. It's like the woman is afraid to smile or when she does it's rare. "I know. I'm sorry, pleas forgive me. I am just a little moody today, I think. I am usually not so irritated." Her gaze goes over to the smashed piano, and she blows out air from between her lips. One can guess why she's so moody.
As The Lover nearly sprawls atop her, The Healer gently holds the woman and brushes her fingers through her hair, her eyes moving to The Caregiver as she murmurs a quiet, "All right."
When the Bravo comes into the parlor, wearing only sweatpants and a frown, he looks slightly lost and more than slightly agitated. There's a glance at the woman who's leaving as he hesitates at the threshold, and then his dark eyes are turning to take in those remaining one by one. No surprise that it lingers for a moment on the women getting cozy with each other, but even that doesn't help the fact that he doesn't know any of them, and they don't know him. Not right now, anyway.
Hey look! Another new face. And even if the Lover is happily cuddled up, she seems both saddened to see someone go and, by equal measure, excited to see someone new arrive. So while she remains happily ensconced on the couch, she does lift her head up to the backrest to peer a bit curiously at the newest new arrival. "Hi! Are you new too?" Maybe the confused, blank looks are a giveaway. She was standing right there a day ago! "Food's over there, the dispenser thing. The TV is an ominous countdown to our demise. Otherwise make yourself at home! Wanna come sit?"
The Healer smiles at the new arrival, but also looks like she is going to go to sleep at any moment. Her eyes are half closed and she's petting The Lover's hair with a small little smile on her lips, her hand gently moving through the woman's locks. "I believe I will sleep." she says after a moment. And even if she doesn't sleep, she'll just lie there until she gets tired.
The Adjudicator leans forward, standing and making his own path through the broken glass etc, foot still bleeding sluggishly. "I think I'll do the same," he agrees, following the Healer out.
"New?" The Bravo says the word like he's not entirely sure what it means. But that can't be the case. It's a simple word. "I don't know," he decides, but he doesn't like that, either. He glances at the television, briefly to the man who leaves, then back to the woman who asked him the question in the first place as he starts to approach. "What demise?"
"Mmm, well. Some people have been here a while. They were on some island, some of them died, but not all of them, and then they were here." The woman on the couch explains this in somewhat absurdly matter-of-fact way, happily ignoring that the words she's stringing together don't necessarily make anything clearer. "I woke up yesterday and ... well I was here! And so maybe you and that girl who just left are like me." She shifts around a bit now, to stretch out on the couch though somewhat using the other woman who's taken a nap there as a pillow, or footrest, or so-on as she adjusts. "We don't really know what the countdown is for, but it seems ominous, y'know?"
Judging by the still agitated but now also kind of confused look on the Bravo's face, the woman's not helping him a whole lot. Instead of asking more questions, though, he rolls his bare shoulders and settles down in a seat where he can watch the women on the couch. "No," is his answer to what was probably a rhetorical question. He doesn't know. "Maybe," he amends after a moment to consider it.
The Lover watches back. She looks sympathetic, but also... well, not particularly concerned about it, either. "Yeah it's kinda confusing! I'm sure you'll figure it out, or just kinda get into the groove of things. I mostly just kinda followed what everyone else was doing. Except, I guess, some people take it a little far." There is, for instance, a broken piano and a bunch of broken plates around the dispenser she pointed out.
He looks over at the piano and the mess around the dispenser. "I'll figure it out," is agreed, crossing his large arms over his bare chest as his attention returns to the Lover. "Who's that?" the Bravo nods his head to the woman she's laying with. And, well, for that matter, "Who're you?"
"Well..." Couldn't he ask an easy question? It should be easy, but the simple request for identifications seems to stump the lady there on the couch. "Who are you? You don't remember, right? I'm the same. Some of them seem to have names they went by on the island, but not everyone likes people calling you by them. I think she was Veronique," she does offer, regarding the sleeping woman, reaching to brush fingers against some stray hairs. "But she was thinking of changing it. They have a book somewhere, with names. Some people just open a page and use that. I tried a couple, but I didn't like any of them."
The Bravo rumbles a sound that would probably be a growl if he were capable of actually growling. These answers clearly aren't satisfying, but he must realize that's all she can give him. "She should change it," he says about the woman who isn't conscious enough to defend the name she isn't sure she wants. "What's going on here?" is asked with a vague gesture to their proximity to each other. And more bluntly, "You fucking or something?"
The question, even if it's pointed, doesn't seem to bother her. "No, she didn't want to," the woman answers, with whatever particular implications that syntax suggests. "But she's really nice. I haven't had a chance to meet too many people, since I just woke up here yesterday. But it was nice to make a friend!" From gazing at the sleeping form, she turns back toward him. "And she had some nice clothes, so I went to her room and tried some on. I guess everyone's rooms are really different."
He doesn't seem sure whether he should be disappointed or not about that answer, but he lets it lead into, "You ought to show me yours sometime." And there's definitely an unsubtle implication of him wanting to do what the sleeping woman didn't. Maybe not right this moment, judging by a stifled yawn, but the idea is there all the same.
The Lover glances back once last time toward the slumbering form, smiles faintly, and then with a bit more twisting and stretching untangles and pulls herself up, first to a proper upright sitting posture before finally standing. And, without really missing a beat, she answers his unsubtle suggestion with a rather casual, "OK. But you should definitely eat!" Even if they've vaguely established it might not matter if anyone starves to death. There's some basic principle to it! "My room's not too hard to find, and I leave the door open if I'm not really busy." However, before heading off wherever she might, there's a pause as she considers her sleeping friend. "Can you help me carry her back to hers? I'm gonna pick up some of her clothes, anyway, but I don't think we should just leave her out here. Some people have been up to some pretty weird 'experiments.'"
The Bravo doesn't even try to hide the fact that he watches the Lover as she stretches and gets herself to her feet. It's a nice view. Her answer even finally seems to quell his frown. "Anything for you, gorgeous," he says as he pushes himself up out of his seat as well. She might not want to read too much into that, granted, but he's at least sincere for the moment. And he'll gather up the Healer in his arms to let the other woman lead the way to where she can be at least superficially safe until she wakes back up.