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( open log ) who's that creepin in the shadows
WHO: Conrad Achenleck and YOU!
WHAT: Scoping out the town, now that it's dark outside.
WHEN: Day 46, nighttime.
WHERE: ERRYWHERE
WARNINGS: Conrad's mouth, will be updated if necessary.
It's been a really, really long day-slash-night-slash-day. Between Hanna's crazy "let's just walk straight into danger" plan, getting attacked by Robocop the Vampire Slayer, waking up in somebody's attic and getting cornered into telling strangers about his condition, Conrad feels like he's going to drop. Not that he can physically feel tired, but mentally, it's a lot to take in at such a nonstop pace. On top of all that, waiting in that unfurnished, dusty attic for the sun to go down without anything to do to occupy himself has been torture.
The sun does go down eventually, though, and as soon as it does, Conrad's headache seems to lessen. He creeps downstairs - not investigating the house too fully, lest he run into his broom-zealous buddy again - and quickly checks out the kitchen and living room - ugh, so not a fan of the basic decor - before heading outside and getting hit with the smell of sea air. Yyyyikes.
He'll be spending the evening like this: hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched up even though he's not cold, wandering the streets and investigating public buildings, maybe talking to himself a little. It distracts from his hunger, anyway; as usual, his sense of smell has amped up - as if he needs help finding food, ugh - but he's saving that last bit of blood until he's found a replacement. Logical action, Conrad.
He's also looking for any sign of a way out, but, well. That's a given.
WHAT: Scoping out the town, now that it's dark outside.
WHEN: Day 46, nighttime.
WHERE: ERRYWHERE
WARNINGS: Conrad's mouth, will be updated if necessary.
It's been a really, really long day-slash-night-slash-day. Between Hanna's crazy "let's just walk straight into danger" plan, getting attacked by Robocop the Vampire Slayer, waking up in somebody's attic and getting cornered into telling strangers about his condition, Conrad feels like he's going to drop. Not that he can physically feel tired, but mentally, it's a lot to take in at such a nonstop pace. On top of all that, waiting in that unfurnished, dusty attic for the sun to go down without anything to do to occupy himself has been torture.
The sun does go down eventually, though, and as soon as it does, Conrad's headache seems to lessen. He creeps downstairs - not investigating the house too fully, lest he run into his broom-zealous buddy again - and quickly checks out the kitchen and living room - ugh, so not a fan of the basic decor - before heading outside and getting hit with the smell of sea air. Yyyyikes.
He'll be spending the evening like this: hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched up even though he's not cold, wandering the streets and investigating public buildings, maybe talking to himself a little. It distracts from his hunger, anyway; as usual, his sense of smell has amped up - as if he needs help finding food, ugh - but he's saving that last bit of blood until he's found a replacement. Logical action, Conrad.
He's also looking for any sign of a way out, but, well. That's a given.
no subject
"Hey, hey, hey. Uh, question, right? You don't get old and stuff, but you look like a regular person age. Are you secretly ancient? Because you seem pretty normal for someone who is like a hundred years old, but maybe I'm wrong. You could've learned that stuff, or maybe you're just super good at bluffing, I don't know. So are you old, like old as balls old?" For the love of God, who gave her free reign to pester the new housemate with questions. She raises her eyebrows at him, but falls silent after that, even clapping a hand over her mouth to make a point. And then ruins that point by mumbling through her fingers.
"That's the last one, I promise."
no subject
"Um, that depends on if you consider twenty-seven to be old as balls." Aaand people generally don't. "This is... uhh, relatively recent."
no subject
Meaning that she doesn't actually think he is now, all things considered. She shrugs and picks up the cup again, peering at him for a second as she takes a sip, then tilts her head. Enough vampire questions, she can only put him through so much in one night, right? "So, what do you do with your spare time then? Any weird hobbies I should know about, collecting empty milk cartons, knitting with cat hair?"
no subject
"Nothing to call the cops about," he says somewhat sheepishly. "Normally I'd be attached to a computer, doing design work, but since it looks like the last update around here was OS negative fucking fifty, I'll have to settle for raiding the library, or something." 'Settle'. He doesn't really look like that's a bad thing.
no subject
"Yeah, the tech is a little dated," which is delivered with a slight chuckle - dated doesn't even begin to cover it, "But, the library's pretty good to be honest. Like I've got a whole heap of books in that room there I haven't taken back yet."
She shrugs as she points towards the room in question with her foot, swinging her legs a little before huddling up in the mug again. Might be nearly empty but at least it gives her something to do with her hands. "It's not the greatest place ever, I'll be the first to say that. Until we figure out how to go back home though, it's not- I mean it's not awful."