hadriel_logs | [OPEN]

[Pratt has washed his clothes, taken a hundred showers, and smells nice and clean. Better than he looks anyway since he's still an emaciated mess with such dark circles around his eyes he could be mistaken for a raccoon.

Still, he's trying to learn more about this place and is taking small jaunts around the island where he lives to see what he can see. Always with his sledgehammer because he's still wary of being attacked by monsters or people or who knows what.

The orchard is kind of nice, he's eaten a few apples the past few days and man has he missed fresh food like that. So he's heading back with a Hawaiian print canvas bag he found in a store in order to get a few more to bring home.

He stops dead when he sees Nil, the red around his neck catching Pratt's eye immediately and he starts to approach him, thinking he's one of the Chosen. At least they won't shoot him on sight.

By the time he realizes this guy isn't someone from back home, he's far too close to turn around and walk away. He's also noticed that he's poking at his phone in a way that indicates he might not be sure how to use the thing. It reminds him of when they tried to show the Sheriff how to play Words with Friends and he'd poked at it uncomprehendingly for about two hours.]

You uh... need some help with that?

[It isn't that Nil doesn't notice the man on his approach, but rather that - after a quick, cursory glance - he chooses not to pay any attention to him. There's nothing about him that flags up as any kind of immediate threat, though the hairs on the back of his neck do begin to prickle up as he draws in closer. Nil's movements slow, and finally stop when he's addressed.]

Had you a mind to offer? [He asks, looking up and leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree he's sat against. His eyes are grey, sharp, giving Pratt a quick up-down appraisal now he's so much closer. Nil has the air of a predatory animal simply deciding not to pounce, clearly armed but not reaching for the knife at his belt or the bow by his side.]

I wouldn't refuse.

[Pratt's posture stiffens under that gaze, he's seen that before. The way a hunter sizes someone up before deciding if they want to slit their throat or not. He's had that look turned on him by every single person in the entire bunker where he was held hostage and there were usually two conclusions: Pratt was too weak to be fun to play with, or watching him squirm would be amusing if Jacob wasn't always around.

This guy seems to be neutral for now, so while Pratt isn't going to let his guard down ~~ever~~ he isn't going to run away either.]

Never had a phone before?

[He doesn't look old enough to be technologically adept, but maybe he never had a smart phone before. The clothing pegs him as being from somewhere that Pratt probably couldn't find on a map so who knows what's normal for him. Pratt isn't gonna judge, he was about 20 before he saw an escalator in real life. Montana is not known for its multi story buildings.]

I can show you, if you'd like.

Ah, was something giving it away? [Like the way he's handling the thing, he imagines, as if he barely knows how to hold it comfortably let alone use it. Nothing that Nil is doing is overtly threatening, at least, and he does incline his head to accept the offer and indicates for the man to take the spot on the grass beside him.

Few people here are the kinds of people that no one would mind seeing dead, and those who are... well, let's just say that Nil manages to retain a healthy sense of danger despite a love of bloodshed.]

I've nothing to offer in return, but sit, if you've still the time to spare.

[He takes the offer, sinking to the ground awkwardly. He manages to not gasp in pain but someone used to seeing people post battle might be able to tell that he's full of old wounds that still hurt. Ribs that have been cracked and are still healing, bruises that are just now starting to fade.]

The way you're poking at it. Reminds me of my boss the first time he used one.

[But that's all he's gonna say about that because most people don't want to be compared to a 60-year old crotchety man.]

I'm not expecting anything, I'm a Deputy. Helping people is what I do.

[And if he keeps saying it, maybe he'll believe it. Protect and Serve. He hadn't done that in a long time, maybe he should start that up again. Pulling out his own phone he holds it in his hand easily and in a way Nil can see.]

For starters it'll be more comfortable to hold like this.

[Ah, he does see it. Nil watches him with quiet curiosity as he sits down, noting the way he moves as if everything hurts. It's something he's seen often in soldiers pushed too hard by a long day of battle, carrying too many wounds but knowing they will have to get on their feet and fight again come morning.

Deputy. A job title? A rank? Nil keeps the question back for now, keeping his attention on the matter at hand. He mimics the way that the man holds the phone, and... ah, yes, he can see how they might be made to be held that way.]

Hm. [Then the screen should be manipulated with his thumb? He gives it a try.] What name do you go by, Deputy?

Pratt.

[Hey, he's getting the hang of it already. Pratt swipes a few things around on his phone so Nil can see. There isn't too much on these phones, but at least it'll be easier for him to type when he's not trying to hold it like he was.]

Guess I'm not much of a Deputy here. But still... Gotta keep trying. I've only been here a week and don't want to let this place get to me.

[Nil keeps keen eyes fixed on what the other man does, and mimics him almost perfectly. What the actual aim of the movements are becomes clear to him as they are performed, and while he does stumble often, he catches on quickly. He didn't survive massacres that killed everyone else involved by not being able to think on your feet.]

You sound like a soldier. [He comments, sounding... strangely amused by the idea. Pratt is certainly moving like one.]

People like you and I, we don't give up easily.

Hm. Being made into one, but not a soldier, not one of the Chosen. Not yet anyway.

[And he doesn't want to be, except when he really really does. Something fractured in his mind where he both wants to belong and hates everything about the Project at Eden's Gate.]

No, we just keep on surviving, come what may.

How long have you been here?

Mm.

[He has to think about it. There's no way to measure time here in the way Nil is accustomed to, so he's had to turn to something else.]

The... 'portal' that opened when I arrived has opened six times since. [Nil replies smoothly, half of his attention still on fidgeting with the phone in his hands. It's only small task to turn his natural dexterity to this kind of task.]

There is a fixed amount of time between each opening. I await it eagerly.

You mean when all the people show up?

[Someone had told him that happened on a regular basis, but he can't recall who now. Also he can't imagine why someone would look forward to a bunch of new people showing up in what is essentially purgatory, so he's struggling with a response that isn't just why? ]

Waiting for someone from back home to show up?

[OPEN]

East Island

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