paradisa | 64;

[It's no secret that this life is starting to wear him down. The castle... or fate... something seemed to happen whenever Spike was about to spite any plans they had in store for him. A week ago he had gone to a warehouse with the full intention of murdering anyone inside, all over a stolen car, and soon after he woke up sixty years older with barely enough energy to get his own fresh air. What's more unnerving is that he wasn't entirely miserable about it; which he attributes to whatever medication they had him on. Or it could be that in sixty years his memory was too far gone to care about much of anything. -- It's stupid to think any more about in any case. That wasn't really him. He died on Tharsis and he hasn't aged a day since.

When he came back, the exhaustion he felt seemed to carry over. Jo is gone now. Maybe if enough time passes, so will everyone who knows him. With that in mind, disappearing won't really be that big of a deal for very long.

The first thing he checked was to see if the car was where he last saw it. Then, without any real reason, he started the engine and drove off through the snow, and kept on driving away from civilization up until the gas finally ran out. At a loss for where he was going with this, he sat long enough for the cold to set in. He started to think about burying it out here. It'd take all day to shovel through the frozen ground, but at least that would lessen the value for thieves. Except now he was too far from the castle to go back for a shovel.

With that plan foiled, he moves to lie in the back seat, and smokes three cigarettes before he decides to reach for the journal. Loose ends.]

---

( Brock )

[Spike may not look it, but he takes his obligations to heart. He can at least let him know that he's free to make the next move.]

I got the car.

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Good.

How dead are they?

They're not.

[wow you're letting him down, man]

So... how badly hurt are you?

[Nobody's more disappointed than him.]

I might have had a concussion, but it's gone now. [He shrugs, like Brock can see... Anyway.] Your records weren't inside.

[Gale had seen Spike driving through town earlier that day and waved... given how brief their last conversation had been, he had just figured that the other man hadn't recognized him. but a while later, as he was clearing space in the yard for the lumber he was going to purchase for the house renovations, he looked down to see Ein barking away at him, somewhat urgently. the little dog had dropped something at his feet, and nudged it closer with his nose once Gale was paying attention.]

Oh hey, Ein. What's this? ...

[he bent to pick it up, brushing off the snow] A cap? To what? Where's Spike?

[the corgi barked again, then sniffed at the cap, sneezed violently, and trotted a few steps away, whining, before coming back. taking the hint, Gale sniffed at it himself, and made a face]

Ugh. It smells like the generator gas from the mines --

[another bark. come on, Gale, think about it. and then it hits him]. Oh, damn. His car? .... Okay. Okay, come on.

[and thus did it come to pass that soon enough, Gale was plodding up to Spike and his car, a gas can over his shoulder and a corgi in the lead]. Hey.

[Spike doesn't stir from his spot where he's sprawled in the backseat, even after Gale's muffled greeting. Honestly, he came all that way to be alone, and he still couldn't catch a break. He almost thought he heard a dog bark shortly after it, which he also ignored.

With the journal covering his face, he thought he could get away with still appearing asleep, which he must have been. Groggily he imagined that they might give up and leave. Finally the cold had stopped bothering him enough to take a nap, so it's really the least they can do.]

[not seeing any movement around the car is troubling. Gale's initial smile of greeting fades quickly, and he frowns as he watches Ein circle the car, sniffing.]

Spike?

[and then the corgi puts his paws up on the car door and starts barking. Gale sets the gas can down and jogs up the car to peer inside. well crap. he raps on the window, hoping he's conscious]

Spike!!

[Brock mutters "damn it" under his breath, because... damn it. Ugh.]

Wait, what do you mean, it's gone now?

[That isn't the part he expected Brock to focus on. He regrets mentioning it.]

It means I'm fine.

[It might be hard to make him out inside; because of course he's been chain smoking with the top and windows up, so there's a fog in the way. The fact that he doesn't respond right away might also give away that he spent the rest of his time drinking, either before coming out or to keep warm after he ran out of gas. (Likely both.)

In any case, it's not a good time to be bothering him. But that's his fault for not putting a "do not disturb" sign in the windshield, so he waves a hand -- in sort of a shooing motion. He wished he could remember if he locked the door. Probably not, so he hopes the wave is enough of a hint.]

Edited 2013-03-08 11:55 (UTC)

[smoke in the car. uh oh. he vaguely remembers hearing something once about that being A Very Bad Thing, and knocks a little harder.

he's not going to break down the door, but, well, it might do something]

Spike!! Hey! Hey, are you alright? Can you hear me? It's Gale...!

[He's going to give Spike a headache with all that banging, but it's occurring to him that he's going to have to respond if he's going to get it to stop. So with a sigh, and a subsequent cough because he's just noticing the smoke, he rubs his eyes and starts to pull himself up.

Rolling over to the door, he pulls the handle. He needs to air it out anyway.]

Gale. What's up? [His voice sounds rough, but that's to be expected. Then he squints, confused.] Is that Ein?

[he sighs in relief. seriously, don't scare him like that]

Yeah, he came and found me. [he holds out the gas cap] With this. What happened, are you okay?

[What... Ein told him to bring gas...]

I guess I didn't get far enough. [Next time he'll check the tank before disappearing. But he'll be glossing over that now --] It ran out of gas, so I took a nap.

[Ein yips. ONE of them has to look out for you, dude, and if it isn't yourself it's going to be him]

Far enough...? Where were you going? [he'll just lean against the other door and chill] I didn't think machines worked past the Dead Zone...

[He'll just file it under bizarre coincidence.]

Sometimes you just feel like driving. [He notices he still has the burned out butt if a cigarette between his fingers, and flicks it the ground. He's probably lucky he didn't set the thing on fire...]

... and running out of gas. [he taps at the gas can with the toe of his boot] ... I can't say I've ever driven a car, but ...

[he pauses, not sure if it's his place to say what he wants to say. oh, hell. they're all in the same boat, here, when you get right down to it. why not.]

I've had my share of days when I just needed to leave everyone behind. ... If you want me to leave you to it, I can.

[That makes him sound incredibly obvious. He tries to look sober, sit up straighter.]

Never, huh? [That's sort of depressing.] Well, you need to test the engine now and then. It's a car thing.

Yeah, we - where I'm from, on Panem? Only the rich people had cars, and even then, only the people the Capitol trusted to have them without deserting.

I don't think they'd even trust me with this. [he smirks and waves the gas cap at him again]

[Ha. It's not the first time someone mistook him for being rich. Maybe it's the suit.]

It's on the side. [Where you put the gas, he means. Since Gale's insisting on being helpful and all.]

Huh? ... [that takes him a minute, but other than the slight leap of intuition required, it doesn't seem to bother Gale that Spike isn't in the mood for talking]

Oh. Okay. ... [and he'll move to find the gas port. luckily the can that Allen had in the garage at Casa de Guts is the sort that doesn't require a funnel]

How much, the whole thing?

[He relaxes back down in his seat, still thinking about something.]

Sure. Unless it starts spilling out.

Concussions don't just go away. Where are you?

[He sighs, this isn't going in the right direction. He doesn't even feel like explaining his head injuries or how he recovered so quickly, because...]

I'm out. [Somewhere in the wilderness...] You don't have to send a rescue team or anything.

[You underestimated Brock's ability to coddle, Spike... where 'concern for a concussed friend' is 'coddling.']

You're out... with the car? [why were you driving with a concussion is the implication there]

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