Deputy Pratt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theweakhavepurpose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2018-07-19 08:47 am
theweakhavepurpose) wrote in hadriel_logs2018-07-19 08:47 am
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Who: This walking disaster Deputy Pratt and YOU!
What: Pratt needs new clothes desperately and to wash his Deputy uniform. Send help.
Where: Around the shops on the East island, later the laundry room in his tiny house in Love's housing area.
When: 7/18
Warnings: Should be exceptionally G-rated. Preemptive minor warning for death or cannibalism mentions if anyone asks about why his clothes are so gross.
Pratt has been here for about a week now, granted it doesn't feel that long because he spent a big chunk of that time sleeping and recuperating, but he's been here long enough to feel comfortable leaving the house he basically stole. No one's tried to attack him, and staring out the window like a creeper for several days makes him cautiously optimistic that no one is going to. After his time in the coliseum he got as far away from there as he could, walked up to the first house he saw, made sure there was no one in there, locked the door then wedged a chair under the handle just to be safe, and passed out face first on the bottom bunk for about two days.
By this point he's drunk a gallon of water straight out of the tub faucet, eaten what he thinks might be canned carrots (he hopes), and has taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable. However his clothes are absolutely rank. He's been wearing the same outfit for months while he was Jacob's captive, and laundry facilities were not on the top of the list for necessities in a doomsday bunker. He needs another shower after being back in them for twenty minutes. It's not even regular 'clothes that have been worn too long' corn chip smell, it's blood and guts and sweat and death. The human butcher shop he's been living in has soaked into every fiber of his uniform and he desperately needs to get rid of that.
The guy who saved him from the kabutops, who's name he does not remember at all, had said he can take things from the shops around, and whether that's true or not - he's going to do it. So he's left his gun behind because this will be a quick run to get something that doesn't smell like human entrails and then he's going to lock himself back in his house and try and figure out how to work the glass and porcelain laundry machine with the buttons that look like they're written in Klingon. He does have his sledgehammer because he's not going anywhere without some weapon to protect himself, but the gun is too big and unwieldy to to carry around with one hand, and hadn't been effective on the monsters he'd seen recently anyway.
He can be found poking through the stores, trying to find anything to wear so he doesn't have to stand around naked while doing laundry. Or furtively wandering the streets trying to not attract attention and inadvertently making himself ten times more suspicious looking.
What: Pratt needs new clothes desperately and to wash his Deputy uniform. Send help.
Where: Around the shops on the East island, later the laundry room in his tiny house in Love's housing area.
When: 7/18
Warnings: Should be exceptionally G-rated. Preemptive minor warning for death or cannibalism mentions if anyone asks about why his clothes are so gross.
Pratt has been here for about a week now, granted it doesn't feel that long because he spent a big chunk of that time sleeping and recuperating, but he's been here long enough to feel comfortable leaving the house he basically stole. No one's tried to attack him, and staring out the window like a creeper for several days makes him cautiously optimistic that no one is going to. After his time in the coliseum he got as far away from there as he could, walked up to the first house he saw, made sure there was no one in there, locked the door then wedged a chair under the handle just to be safe, and passed out face first on the bottom bunk for about two days.
By this point he's drunk a gallon of water straight out of the tub faucet, eaten what he thinks might be canned carrots (he hopes), and has taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable. However his clothes are absolutely rank. He's been wearing the same outfit for months while he was Jacob's captive, and laundry facilities were not on the top of the list for necessities in a doomsday bunker. He needs another shower after being back in them for twenty minutes. It's not even regular 'clothes that have been worn too long' corn chip smell, it's blood and guts and sweat and death. The human butcher shop he's been living in has soaked into every fiber of his uniform and he desperately needs to get rid of that.
The guy who saved him from the kabutops, who's name he does not remember at all, had said he can take things from the shops around, and whether that's true or not - he's going to do it. So he's left his gun behind because this will be a quick run to get something that doesn't smell like human entrails and then he's going to lock himself back in his house and try and figure out how to work the glass and porcelain laundry machine with the buttons that look like they're written in Klingon. He does have his sledgehammer because he's not going anywhere without some weapon to protect himself, but the gun is too big and unwieldy to to carry around with one hand, and hadn't been effective on the monsters he'd seen recently anyway.
He can be found poking through the stores, trying to find anything to wear so he doesn't have to stand around naked while doing laundry. Or furtively wandering the streets trying to not attract attention and inadvertently making himself ten times more suspicious looking.
no subject
He runs his hand through his hair, eyes looking less haunted now that he's calmed down from his initial panicky response that there's another person around. "Something for me to get used to. Along with everything else."
Cringing at the smell that's embedded in his hair he decides it's probably best for him to go get on that whole showering a hundred times and changing thing, "Thanks for your help. With.. all this."
The horrible shirt, explaining more about where they are, all of it.