067. In The Evening

[samson]

[In the early evening, Brock can be found at the archery range alternately shooting his crossbow at targets or using throwing knives. He is... pretty bad.

Also pretty bad is his constant swearing about how terrible he is. It's just awful. Embarrassing even.

But he's still trying. Just getting more and more pissed off as he goes on.]

[Brock's voice comes over the journal in the evening, tone flat.]

I need to know if anybody has experience with like... really bad depth perception. Don't ask. I just need advice.

Comments

[samson]

[Not that Brock thinks Spike has an ulterior motive, but he does not strike him as particularly... helpful, no.

Still, he's just going to keep trying -- and failing -- to hit the target as he waits.]

[gottaknockhard]

[Whatever his reason, it couldn't be so simple as seeing if he's talking to his friend or hallucinating this entire conversation.

Because that could happen.

Spike shows up at the shooting range a short walk after, just sort of entering slowly. Maybe remembering taking someone there, but quickly turning his attention to Brock and his unfortunate aim. He hangs back for a while before he pipes up from behind.]

You're going to wear out your arm if you don't take a break, you know. [It's an excuse for him, if he wants it. Spike would go along as a courtesy to the recently resurrected.]

[samson]

[Brock's half blind but he can still hear well enough. He knows Spike's there, so it doesn't startle him when he speaks up; instead, he just grunts irritably and flings a final knife at the target.

Miss.

Seething, he reaches in his pocket for a cigarette and angrily lights up.] Great. Then I'd have two non-functioning body parts.

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike gives him a moment, mulling something over. (Or thinking of how spry Brock looks compared to how he last saw him... It's almost more off-putting on this end.)]

There might be options for that.

[samson]

[Spry, sure. But also half-blind, which tends to really put a damper on athleticism.]

Like?

[gottaknockhard]

[He won't hold it against him.]

Well, if we ever found a surgeon from my time. Implants are pricey, but not uncommon.

[samson]

Implants -- uh, I mean... it's only half the time. Like. During the day I can see all normal, so...

[For a dude with a metal plate in his chest, Brock seems pretty touchy about having organic parts needlessly replaced.]

[gottaknockhard]

[Not like Spike doesn't still have nightmares about it... But to be fair, his eye was fully functioning when he traded it out.]

... That's pretty specific. [Also, gets him wondering if he should try drinking at all hours. Maybe it's a timing thing. (Mental note!)

Anyway, he's looking at Brock's target again. Helping.] Seems like it'd make you dizzy.

[samson]

Yeah, I know, we timed it... goes completely dead the second the clock hits six. [Which makes him wonder what's going to happen with Daylight Savings. And it's also the first time he's ever wondered if Paradisa follows Daylight Savings.]

Mostly it's just annoying, though... I keep walking into stuff.

[gottaknockhard]

[He nods, knowingly. All told though, Spike would trade up for that deal any day. -- But whatever, blindness is a stupid thing to be jealous over.]

Which eye is it?

[samson]

[He gestures at his right eye.]

[gottaknockhard]

[He probably could have guessed that from the way he was throwing. Distracted maybe.]

That's funny.

[samson]

Gonna have to clue me in. [HOW IS IT FUNNY...]

[gottaknockhard]

[He looks at him like that connection should have been obvious.]

It's the same one I lost.

[samson]

[Annnd Brock stares at him for a really long time.]

When... did you...

[gottaknockhard]

[Look closer. Most people can spot it if they know what they're looking for.]

A few years back. [Details... This is actually Spike opening up.] Although I guess my case would be different.

[samson]

[It's weird to gaze into your bro's eyes, but he's doing it anyway.]

Yeah, well. I'm assuming you didn't die and then come back to life...

[gottaknockhard]

[That kind of thing shouldn't be followed with an awkward pause, and yet...]

Not with the eye, no.

[samson]

[And now he's squinting again. What...]

So...

[gottaknockhard]

[He shrugs, like he does with all unimportant things, and starts to take another look at the targets. Just when it seems like he's going to let that assumption ride, he speaks up.]

A while ago.

[samson]

[Well, thanks for actually talking about something for once, Spike. Much appreciated.

Brock keeps looking at Spike for another second or two after he turns his attention back to the targets.]

Is this like... for real 'I died' or 'I went into cardiac arrest for a minute and was technically dead... I died'?

[gottaknockhard]

[It just takes a handful of years for these things to come up naturally in conversation. Something to get off his chest.]

Twice. [Who knows which he means, or if he's still choosing to be ambiguous.] Once before I came here, then on the ship.

[samson]

[Paradisa fucks with you, evidenced in Brock reacting with some surprise about the former but not the latter. A lot of people died on the ship. Molotov almost did, but he doesn't like thinking about that.

But normal people do not die in "real life" and come back.]

Is that a metaphor?

[gottaknockhard]

[If he's counting metaphors, he's died three times. But that would really be over-sharing when he's doing enough of that already.]

It was the last thing I remembered.

[samson]

Oh... shit. [Of course there were people who came to Paradisa after their deaths in the real world, where there was nothing for them to return to. Where Paradisa was their last chance at life.

He'd never actually made the connection before, though. What do you even say to that?]

That's... rough, man.