Another Strange Post [for March 31st]

[skintoskin]

[The device turns on as a young man walks toward it. He's wearing some sort of jacket and vest and... jeans. His hair is slicked back, he's wearing shades, and a cigarette sits between his lips. The sun is setting and it makes him seen even more striking. He looks confident, maybe even a little cocky, and when he speaks, his voice is low and vaguely reminiscent of an old Hollywood movie...]






This place is strange, wild, old. People wander the streets and go about their business, trying to create lives for themselves, make friends, establish some sense of normalcy in a City that holds you captive. A City that appears to send you away on whim. A City that calls some back with no consideration for their sanity, messing with their existence, trampling them like old papers in the gutter. It's my job to try and make things right.

[Yes, he's cursed, and by the Genre Curse. Meet Hard-Boiled Neil McCormick.]

Comments

[skintoskin]

I think the clock has something to do with it and I've been told there's more underground...

[signatures]

Underground's a bit dangerous territory.

[skintoskin]

It isn't an easy job, Mr. Eames. Have you been down there?

[signatures]

A few times here and there, yes.

[skintoskin]

Would you take me there? I think I need to see myself the belly of the beast.

[signatures]

This weekend? No.

But if you're still interested next week, then I'll consider it.

[skintoskin]

Is that because... I'm apparently cursed?

[signatures]

I suspect you might be, yeah. And I'm busy, besides.

[ And also cursed, though he himself doesn't know it. ]

[skintoskin]

Some other time, when you're not busy.

[signatures]

Absolutely.

[skintoskin]

I appreciate that, Mr. Eames.