80; action/dictated

[gottaknockhard]

[It's been well over a week. Something should have changed by now.]

[Spike has been feeling oddly anxious lately, for a few reasons, but he's decided that most of them are tied to the fact that he can't figure out how to work the new 'no smoking' sections that the castle put in just for him. Vicious probably thinks it's funny that he can't light his own cigarette, and Spike may have even chuckled along with him if it'd only lasted a day, but this is getting serious. Then there's the fact that he definitely felt like he got a buzz the last time they were playing pool, which he's since been unable to replicate. Castle humor at its worst.

So he does what anyone would, and puts whatever-it-is to the test. He spent the early part of the evening waiting in the laundry room, making a good attempt at seeming busy with clothes that aren't his, until the last patron of the Death Match stumbles past him and down the hall. Then, he walks into the bar with a basket and loads up as many bottles as he can carry -- admittedly less than he could have before, but his hands have made an almost miraculous recovery since the injury. In their place, he leaves a pointed note behind the counter that reads: They won't go to waste.

It takes more than one trip to carry the majority of the stock from the bar to his room, and by the time he finishes unloading the last of it, he's already wondering why he went to all the trouble. There's better revenge for spilling beer on him on April Fools Day, especially when it won't exactly set them back, but it's the principle of the thing.

Moreover, he's not sure that his note was being entirely truthful after a few failed attempts at pouring the alcohol into a glass. Unless the owner suddenly knocks down his door, his evening has suddenly gone bust. He could probably drop it and make a call to shoot another game of pool, but even bantering and in a smokey room isn't so appealing when he's been inactive for too long. It's enough to drive a guy insane.]

[Hefting a sigh, he flips open the journal, with no particular purpose in mind.]

Is it just me, or does everything seem to be moving backwards? Between this and Florence, we keep going in the wrong direction. [Since he's obviously referring to their new 'Medieval' town that's becoming less charming as time goes on.] The dinosaurs too, now that I think about it. Talk about favoring the majority.

[Residents, he means. He's hoping one of them hears him.]

( Brock )

[He could preface this filter with something thoughtful, since he hasn't checked in since the coma and Brock has his own stuff, but he assumes that it's all implied with the act of filtering to him at all.]

How's the car running?


ooc: Basically this is Spike trying to figure out his new loss by stealing all the alcohol. Also open for running into him in the laundry room or anywhere along his path.

Comments

Hope this is okay!

[deductiongeek]

[Conan had a special talent for always showing up in the place and time most inconvenient for everyone else. And so of course he happens to take a turn into the hallway just in time to see Spike hauling the beer out of the bar.]

What are you doing?

Yep!

[gottaknockhard]

[Either Spike doesn't hear him, or he's just ignoring the kid, because he doesn't so much as slow his pace when he appears around a corner. This basket is heavy, don't you know. He obviously doesn't have time for questions.]

[deductiongeek]

[If there was one thing Conan couldn't resist it was a mystery. Even if it was nothing more than finding out why someone was ignoring him. He immediately follows after Spike.]

[gottaknockhard]

[That's the problem with kids who get to roam free in a magic castle in the middle of the night. Spike may have ignored him until he reached his room if he didn't think that would tip him off to where he slept. When it becomes clear that he hasn't gotten bored yet, he calls over his shoulder.]

If you want candy, you're better off wishing for it.

[deductiongeek]

I don't like candy. [And Conan never made wishes if he could avoid it. The entire process offended his understanding of reality too much.]

I'm more interested in what you're doing!

Spike

[samson]

[Brock's not particularly one for thoughtfulness anyway, so it may have been wasted. Circumventing it is probably the best move for everyone.]

Should be okay. Haven't taken her out in awhile, since cobblestones are kind of a pain in the ass on the suspension.

Brock

[gottaknockhard]

[Pain in the ass cobblestones seem to validate his seemingly random complaint.]

Think it could handle a trip to the castle?

Spike

[samson]

Could be. [Though, uh.]

You're asking about your car, right.

[Julia's car... whatever....]

Brock

[gottaknockhard]

[His car? ...Yeah, there was one of his, wasn't there...]

Whatever. I just need to haul a few things out to the cabin.

Spike

[samson]

You moving in? [Should he... move all these easels that are still littering the place...]

dictated;

[lord_wizard]

I believe backwards and forwards is a matter of point of view, darling

dictated;

[gottaknockhard]

[Darling...]

You don't think it's going in the same direction?

dictated;

[lord_wizard]

I think we should assume all the usual rules apply here.

dictated;

[gottaknockhard]

Which ones are those?

dictated; (that should have said shouldn't)

[lord_wizard]

In this case, that time works only forward. Or only in one direction at all times, is perhaps the more apt idea. Besides, all those things you mentioned are your past. Not mine.

actionnn

[hellofist]

[It's actually kind of funny, running into Spike with his load of alcohol after the way they'd first met. Her with her armfull of mistletoe doesn't quite match him and his basket of booze, but it's similar.

It's also kind of an amusing sight and the corner of her mouth lifts just a little as she watches him moving down the hall towards her.]

Stocking up?

[gottaknockhard]

[Had she been someone else, Spike may have made more of an effort to hide what he's carrying just to avoid a lengthy conversation. Granted, the basket isn't any less heavy because he doesn't loathe her company, but he knows she's smart enough to see through any line he gave.]

Science experiment.

[hellofist]

[If there was any question whether she'd just walk on past him and let him get on with his day, it's answered when she comes right up to him and looks into the basket for a better look.]

What kind?

[gottaknockhard]

[It's not like he disguised it very well with an old shirt on top of the bottles. He should have expected someone to be up, but all things considered, there are worse people to run into.]

I could use a hand with it, actually.

[hellofist]

[She's in the middle of pushing that shirt aside when he goes and does that, all but invites her to help him, and figures he must have some kind of problem he can't manage on his own.

Why does she know so many people who drink to solve their problems? How is her helping people with alcohol becoming a Paradisa tradition? The world may never know, but she's not going to turn Spike down.]

What, basket too heavy?

[Look at her, making a joke. It's like she never even died at all.]

[pompous_today]

I have to agree. Of course, was there ever a "right" direction for here to begin with?

[gottaknockhard]

[Finally someone agrees.]

I guess forward is too much to ask for.

[pompous_today]

Indeed- especially when sending us left and right and up and down and backward instead is so much more interesting.

[gottaknockhard]

Interesting is a word for it.

[pompous_today]

Frustrating is another way to describe it. And I thought my life back home had been enough of both.