☞ 029. (audio + text)

[wouldnotkindly]

[At first, the only sound is a loud, heavy breathing. Then comes a deep, low groan, a huffed breath, and the noises of someone quickly fumbling with the device before it shuts off entirely.

A few minutes later, a text post appears on the network:]

Hello

This is the city right ?

Can someone please bring me a coat its very cold out here and i landed in the fountain again

Thank you

[Meanwhile, anyone passing by the fountain might notice a large man in a sweater and jeans ensemble — bruised, bloodied, and soaked head to foot — and trying to figure out what to do with what looks like pieces of an old-timey diving suit. Be careful about getting too close, though, as a thick, briny stench surrounds him.]

Comments

[horseish]

[A small child is near the fountain, carefully and methodically collecting all the snow into piles. And watching you, Jack. Carefully from a distance.]

[wouldnotkindly]

[Jack has dealt with plenty of small children, thanks to his time in Rapture. He's not quite as used to small children watching him, though.

He shivers and gives the kid a weak smile. It's the least he can do, and at this point, probably also the most he can do.]

[horseish]

[She doesn't give any real acknowledgement of the smile, but doesn't stop watching him either. She's used to spying on people, after all. She's had lots of experience being patient and watching.]

[wouldnotkindly]

[Well, that's. Mildly unsettling.

Still, there's not much else he can do about it, given his lack of voice. So he'll just continue to sit here, shiver, and pretend not to notice her.]

[horseish]

[He doesn't seem to mind her watching, so she comes a little closer still.]

Why do you have so much blood on you?

[wouldnotkindly]

[Er. Well. How is he supposed to answer that?

He glances down at himself, visibly vexed, when it occurs to him that his pistol is still tucked into his belt. He carefully retrieves it, holds it out just enough to show it to her; maybe this can convey at least part of his answer.]

[horseish]

You can't talk, can you?

[wouldnotkindly]

[Oh, thank god. He nods quickly as he sticks the gun back his belt, clearly relieved that she caught on so quickly.]

[horseish]

Did someone cut out your tongue?

[wouldnotkindly]

[He shakes his head, less fervently than he answered before. He was lucky enough not to lose that, at least. Then he tugs at the ragged, bloodied bandage that hangs loosely around his neck; if she looks closely, she'll be able to see scarred flesh at his throat, healed over but no less an outward marker of the damage to his larynx.]

[horseish]

Did someone cut you and your voice stopped working? I didn't know they could do that.

[wouldnotkindly]

[Well... That's not exactly what happened. But he can't exactly set the record straight himself, and it's probably as close as anyone can guess. So he nods again, after a moment's contemplation.]

[horseish]

Do you need help?

[wouldnotkindly]

[He's a little hesitant, given that he doesn't know this kid from Adam. But what's the worst that could happen? He nods, expression cautious.]