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singillppl2024-08-07 09:42 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-08-07 09:42 pm
Entry tags:
August 2024 Test Drive Meme
AUGUST 2024 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.
PROMPT TWO — TEA TIME: A mysterious stranger offers Interlopers some tea by her fire, with... unexpected results.
PROMPT THREE — YOU LYING NEXT TO ME: Thawing and quake activity in the Northern Territories make for a deadly mix, particularly with bodies of water.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'
It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words. You will later learn that these are the words of The Darkwalker, a malevolent being that exists in this world. It knows of your presence here, and you will be far worse off for it.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.
You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.
You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. Interlopers who arrive in the month of August will find that there is often disturbances and damage to the earth and roads — often similar to that found following quake activity. Care should be taken in finding your way.
Soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.
Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you smell it through the fog: the scent of smoke that seems to cling in the still air. Fire. Not just one, but several perhaps. Civilization...?
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the foggy mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights, even if it may appear a little eerie in the half-light gloom: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!
As you head into the outskirts and then further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building where many people seem to gather: a community hall, by the looks of it. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Everyone looks as though they could faint from the cold at any second, damp and shivering.
The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“As I suspected, another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”
The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold.
Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables offering food, and drinks similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers. Newcomers will hear from others of Feasts held before, but the offering this month are… somewhat meagre. Newcomers will hear from others of Feasts held before, but the offering this month are… somewhat meagre. There are canisters with hot herbal teas and perhaps a rare canister of coffee. Soup and stew are on offer, but little in the way of charred/grilled meats. What little game Interlopers already here have caught has been used wisely to stretch it further. There is grilled fish, however. That is the most plentiful, it seems. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast.
The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much. Methuselah seems exhausted. Life within the Northern Territories has been very difficult for all who dwell here. But perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
TEA TIME
WHEN: Mid-month — end of the month.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered/magical drinks; loss of inhibitions; physical age changes; body horror/animal attributes; memory sharing; possible fourth-wall breaking; future visions;
It is incredibly rare to come across others in the Northern Territories, but certainly not unheard of. Even if the town of Milton had lost what seems to be its entire population before the arrival of Interlopers, there are still others native to this place out in the world. Young Bill and Methuselah are proof of that, as are the Forest Talkers — who have a tense relationship with the Interlopers, to put it lightly. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that there could be more.
The old woman appears to be one of them, wrapped in many layers of synthetic clothing and furs. You may come across her as she wanders through the world, or perhaps find her huddled around a campfire in the depths of the wilderness. If one were to hazard a guess, they’d assume she were some kind of nomad like Methuselah.
She’s friendly sort; that’s the first impression you make of her. It’s safe to conclude she isn’t with the Forest Talkers. She regards arrivals with wide eyes, beckoning Interlopers to come join her by the fire. Softly spoken, with a mumbling quiet voice. It might seem like she’s not all there, and seems harmless enough. Perhaps a little lonely. Who isn’t in this place? She is mostly curious about the Interlopers themselves and will be interested in hearing about them, asking them questions about their worlds and lives. She’s a very keen and attentive listener.
As conversation grows, she will boil some snow for water upon her fire. With all this talk, what better way than to add some tea to it? The weather is getting colder, too. Something hot will stave off the chill. Out of her rucksack, she will pull out a carved wooden box. It is something quite precious to her, and within it are several small metal tins. She will show it to the Interlopers, and inside there will be different blends of herbal tea. She will ask which of the teas you would like to drink.
The choice is yours, Interlopers. But drinking one of these teas will have… unexpected results.
BURDOCK TEA: An earthy and bittersweet tea, with a slightly nutty flavour. Drinking this tea will pull away any inhibitions and mental filters and make you more susceptible to speaking your mind and being more honest with those around you. Maybe you want to tell someone how much they suck, or maybe you want to confess your feelings to someone. Maybe you just really want to air out your grievances about your life or current situation. And they say alcohol will loosen tongues.
HERBAL TEA: This miscellaneous ‘herbal’ smells pretty fragrant, but you can’t quite tell what’s all in its blend. This tea will show you a random moment from your future. This might be something immediate within the Northern Territories, or it may be a moment of your future within your own world. The vision itself will only last for a few moments, and then fade into black.
ROSEHIP TEA: A sweet and floral tea with a tangy aftertaste. This tea will show you a moment of your past, replaying it out before you as if you are watching it like one watches a movie. It may be a happier time, a fond memory of sorts. Or perhaps it will be your worst memory ever: a failing, a wrong decision, a difficult or upsetting time in your life. What’s more, is that anyone drinking this very same tea with you will also experience this moment with you.
REISHI TEA: A bitter tea with a woody flavour. This tea will change your appearance physically in some way. It may be something small like changing your eye or hair colour. It may go even more extreme and temporarily give you some kind of animal features: ears, scaly skin or a tail.
BIRCH BARK TEA: A pleasant wintergreen drink that tastes faintly like rootbeer. Drinking this tea will change your physical age. You may revert to a younger version of yourself, or become an older version of yourself.
Once drinking the tea, you will find yourself alone. The fire is almost embers beside you. You will find that you will never come across the old woman again, no matter how hard you try to find her.
YOU LYING NEXT TO ME
WHEN: The month of August.
WHERE: Everywhere. And specifically: Milton Basin, ponds around Milton Outskirts; Lakeside Lake, misc. Water sources.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk; potential partial nudity.
There has been an instability in the earth as of late. Interlopers have been made aware of the fact that the Northern Territories have been victim to quakes in the past. But lately, there has been new seismic activity, which has not helped matters. In Lakeside, it is certainly more obvious to see: sections of the railway track that run through the area have buckled, roads are damaged and undrivable and the bridge that leads out towards the coast has crumbled away.
But the damage extends beyond the roads and railway tracks, something which Interlopers will, unfortunately, discover as they go out travelling or exploring the world.
It is hard to tell which part of the ground will give way, it often happens without warning. Interlopers will simply be out walking and the ground will suddenly collapse from beneath them into small pits and ravines. They’re easy enough to climb out of for the most part, but Interlopers are in danger of sprains and even broken bones if they don’t land right. But they may end up being completely submerged in the snow, leaving them not too worse for wear but very cold. They’ll certainly need to be dug out, and hopefully, they’re not left for too long, either. Hopefully some kind-hearted stranger may find them.
The most dangerous of all are the frozen lakes, ponds and streams. It feels like the Northern Territories have been a place of endless winter. The snow has never left, and the thick ice of almost all water sources remains. While certain smaller bodies of water have thawed enough for Interlopers to fish, most have remained in a permanent state of frozen solidity. Interlopers have been free to walk across the ice untroubled. But the quakes have… endangered the solidity of what seemed to be unmeltable ice.
What was once a rare safe bet will become no more. Unsuspecting Interlopers travelling or exploring these ‘frozen’ waters may find themselves in for a nasty surprise. Without warning, the ice will creak and groan beneath their feet — the sound echoing, a strange kind of sharp snap. Then, with a groan, the ice will give way: plummeting whichever poor soul stands upon it down into the frigid waters below.
Such cold water is dangerous no matter the depth, but some will be much luckier than others. Some of the smaller ponds within the Northern Territories will only reach waist or chest height, but the much deeper bodies of water like the Basin and Lakeside Lake will prove far deadlier. Getting victims out of the waters is half the battle, trying to do so risks yourself. Many may find themselves falling in with their companions — and although a way out can be achieved, the harder part is warmth.
Getting the poor souls who fall victim to falling into the water or trapped in the snow indoors and close to a fire is a good start. Building a fire takes time, though. It could be a while before a roaring fire is going. So alternate plans might need to be put into action. Let’s hope there are some dry blankets nearby, and it’d be a good idea to get out of any soaked clothes before they freeze on a person.
They do say that sharing body heat is also a good way of heating up a person who’s suffering from the cold. Hypothermia is deadly, after all. Skin-on-skin contact works best, wrapped up in blankets. Who has time for getting awkward about it? Getting cosy might just save someone’s life.
FAQs
1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.
2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.
5. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. The effects of the Burdock, Reishi and Birch Bark teas will last for 24 hours.
2. Physical changes to characters (ie. getting animal ears) will be purely aesthetic.
1. For those down in the Basin, there is a small hut/shack with a fireplace that Interlopers can use for refuge to warm up. Shelter in other places isn't too far off. Best get warmed up quickly!
2. Interlopers already in-game with the Cold Fusion Feat won't be susceptible to cold damage/hypothermia if they fall into the waters but will also not be able to warm up their fellow Interlopers who end up taking an icy plunge.
3. Interlopers already in-game with the Lightbringer or Moon Touched Feats will be hugely beneficial/vital in warming up their fellow Interlopers who fall into the waters.
no subject
[ strange, she means, having finally witnessed the aurora and the sheer chaos it brought along with it. lights bursting to life everywhere in the deep dark that had fallen over milton, like sun caught in glass, and machines that spoke and sang and made noises unknown to her until then. she had never heard metal to crackle, or steel to whine, but they did. the whole town lit up as like fire, but without the warmth of it.
and even warmth was strange. heat coming from the vents on the floor, through thin slats and narrow windows, but she could not find the source the heat if she tried. objects lighting up in strange colors, but only when their cords are pinned to openings in walls.
they said it was electricity, some sort of power that brought the town to life. with milton plagued by deaths in the past few months, sansa supposes she understands what it means now. ]
But I've made some friends. Not many, but good ones. I mend clothes for those who need it, but they otherwise leave me be.
[ the lady randvi. ser red. little lord robin. kate marsh, who reminds her of herself. ser levi and doctor darling and the man who calls himself lalo. even the marshall givens and constable fraser, kind men with strange hats and a shared fondness for things called rifles. ]
I could make you something, if you mean to stay close by.
no subject
The sky is different here; he feels it again, just like he felt it earlier with that brown-haired girl. A creeping dread, the ominous sense of something fundamentally wrong. Of threat, and danger. Of ice, and of fire. Something lives here and plays with them, and the sky is wrong.
He does not like this place. This place does not feel safe. Not for him, and certainly not for her. He casts his eyes about the crowded hall, at the faces of the men, full of soldiers — some who seem decent enough, others with a look in their faces that he recognizes because he's worn it himself. At first glance, he doesn't trust some of these fuckers as far as he could throw them.
She's been here without her brothers, unattended, with no guard.
He drags his eyes back to her again. )
Where the fuck else would I go?
( Plenty of other places, realistically. He could fuck off entirely, find one of those unattended cabins. Navigate for himself, once his leg's healed up enough and he's got the necessary clothes to handle the harsh bite outside. He could. Mayhaps he will.
Or mayhaps not.
He raises his cup and flatly adds: )
All the drink is here.
no subject
[ she even smiles, just a little. the cold is home, she had not known life without it since she was a girl. and hadn't she endured the sweltering heat of king's landing? choosing to keep her full sleeves because she wants to remain northern, even if she hadn't realised it then. even her lighter garments were fuller than the lengths her peers had worn in court. certainly fuller than what the lady margaery herself had worn; she is from the reach, sansa will not judge their fashions. (how could she? she wears her northern braids so proudly. perhaps margaery had, too.)
but then she notices his leg, and sansa's smile turns. ]
And you're injured. How...? Should I find you a healer? Are you in pain?
no subject
He's a large man. Hairy, and of a temperament and countenance that would perhaps be more at home in the north than it ever was in the south — but it is most certainly the south he's conditioned for. He had not yet made it that far on his journey before Brienne saw fit to send him neck-first into an involuntary vacation retreat. There will come a time, one day, when his body doesn't react quite so violently to the temperature. Being beaten bloody and half-dead doesn't help him acclimate any faster. )
I'm fine. ( He grunts dismissively, absently dragging that hand down to rub at the tender flesh just above the wound. The bone aches, and the chill only makes it worse. ) Don't worry your pretty little head about me.
( It had been worse, before he woke up here. He distinctly remembers the bone poking out, the pain so consuming he'd almost have been happier snapping it clean off entirely. Now, of course, he's glad he's still got it.
He'll quietly dodge that question of how, thank you very much. His pride's wounded worse than his leg is. Bested by a fucking woman, in the end.
He's got questions, anyway, of a different nature. He hesitates to ask them, debating, but ultimately the curiosity wins out — )
Were you taken from King's Landing?
cw for mentions of SA, self-harm, jumping off a castle wall.
Littlefinger took me from the capital and sent me North to the Boltons. He meant to wed me to Roose Bolton's bastard, and he did.
[ she can still feel his grasp, some nights. the way he bruises her in all the soft places of her, the way he hurts her for his pleasure. she could have done with a man like the hound then, but what happened has happened; she must endure, if only to spite a man so eager to break everything and everyone he could get his hands on. ]
He took as he pleased. [ when she had arrived, she'd looked for a maester. even a healer would do, she would take no chances. but she needn't have worried; her blood came in due time. ] I meant to rid him of my burden.
[ to jump with theon from the high walls of winterfell and to the bank of snow below. she survived it, barely; then she woke here. ]
cw: some really awful genre-consistent narrative about SA & violence
Littlefinger took her to the fucking Boltons? Sansa fucking Stark, to marry a Bolton bastard? As if being paired off with the dwarf weren't fucking bad enough; he knows about Roose. Knows about that creepy little fucker of a son he's got, too. Heard some stories. Shit that would make a grown man piss himself.
He took as he pleased.
Clegane bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tastes blood. Tastes copper, tastes anger, and he's not sure if it's directed at her, or himself, or the Lannisters, or the Boltons. He levels her with a look, hard, unrelenting. )
You should have come with me.
( Wouldn't be a man alive that could come within sword's reach of her legs without having his cock kindly removed first, he could've seen to that. If she'd let him.
And then, after a beat, more firmly: )
You'll come with me now. After this. When we leave this place.
( It's not a question, except that it is. At the end of the day, it's still her choice. He won't force her, but — for fuck's sake, girl. )
cw for mentions of petyr baelish's unpleasantness
never so visibly untoward, he's too smart for it or thinks himself too clever, but sansa understood before she truly understood.
and like locks tumbling open from within, sansa softens. lets her shame and anger and fear rise to her cheeks, to the tenseness of her jaw. ]
You'll take me North? You will swear it to me? [ to jon. to what remains of her family. and if there is none that remain — well, she'll figure it out when she gets to that point. but— ] How can you protect me while you're unable to do so for yourself?
[ the leg. the damaged armour and bloodied clothes. ]
Ask me again when you're better.
[ she owes him kindness and grace. she owes him to be treated as a knight, even if he claims otherwise; despite his roughness, his coarseness, he has never given her reason to believe he means her harm. he had many chances, and he had tried it in that stairwell, when he was deep in his cups or his feelings or whatever it was that kept him hateful.
she will give him this. ]
Heal first, Clegane. [ she leaves out the ser. ] Please, for me.
no subject
He can't rightfully be angry with her, not when she's finally seeing the world as he'd always barked at her to see it. For what it is, with wariness and suspicion, and dirt covering the lens. And yet...
How can you protect me while you're unable to do so for yourself?
Fucking fair enough. A fair enough comment. He did fail her sister not but hours ago. It makes him want to upend this table, hurl his cup against the wall. Chase down Brienne of fucking Tarth and see how good she'd fight with a festering wound at the juncture of her sword arm.
Fucking Starks. Fucking women. Fucking nobility. Most of all, fuck his own indecipherable, inexplicable compulsion to play guard dog for them; truly he can't put into words why he keeps doing it, save for an utter lack of a better sense of purpose. )
Suit yourself. I don't give a shit what you do.
( He grinds out finally, shoving his chair back and rising. He intends to stalk away, to lick his wounds and sulk somewhere else. Given enough time, he'll ruminate on this conversation more kindly. He always does. )
god i love him
but she understands a few things now, about the hound. how he says one thing and means something else, but nothing so different as to be the opposite. he cares. for whatever reason that he keeps between himself and whichever gods he might have prayed to, once upon a time, he cares.
he will not harm her, and that's the most important thing for now.
sansa's slower to rise from her chair, keeping her movements slow and clear. and she steps close to him, closer still, places a gentle hand lightly against one arm. ]
I've never forgotten what you did for me. Thank you. For all of it.
If you need anything that I could give, ask me.
LMAO he's such an asshole all the time i'm so sorry
He's a shit man, trying and failing to be less shit, with no clear understanding on why he's even bothering, and with the audacity to be angry in the face of rightful skepticism. Worse, he's even smart enough to see that plain as day, and yet he's still at the mercy of the whims of his own temper — at least until it can cool enough for him to come crawling back later with his tail between his legs, more manageable and contrite.
For whatever reason, Sansa Stark in particular has always been good at making him hate himself. Even when she's fucking thanking him.
For all of it — all of what? All of nothing, at the end of the day. That's exactly what he's managed to do for her, over and over again, despite his intentions: nothing. And now, here, again: nothing. But then she's placing a hand on his arm, and it freezes him stone-still in place before he can slam his way through the crowd like he means to.
A muscle in his jaw thumps angrily, his eyes fall to her hand, but still he doesn't move. Has she ever touched him before, voluntarily, of her own initiative? He can't remember so. She used to be too frightened of him, he thinks.
What does he need from her? What could she possibly give him? A new fucking leg?
At length, he exhales slowly through his nose. With great effort, and no small amount of bitterness, he finally manages: )
Just get me something to keep from freezing my fucking tits off, would you?
( Especially if they're going fucking North. )
no subject
there are a lot of secrets to go around in this town. she would like to keep this - their names, their true faces - a secret for a little longer.
he had given her a task, too, which she appreciates. it's something to occupy her time and mind with; sansa nods to him and steps away to rummage through one of the low cabinets where they keep the scavenged fabrics and clothes.
given the hound's size and height, sansa knows many of the clothes they have at hand won't fit. even the ones that might suit a man of his constitution would be tight around him, and sansa would like it not, since he has injuries to mind. so she pulls out one of the larger bedsheets, near large enough to be a curtain, grunting just a little because of the weight.
it has a warm layer sewn into the soft underside, adequate for the weather. perhaps she could refashion it into a coat; she'll need to visit the general store and ask if there are thicker threads she could barter for.
sansa brings the sheet back to the hound. the edges are dragging on the floor, such is the size of it, but she thinks he won't mind so much. ]
Here, [ she holds out to him. ] It will keep warm.
[ it also smells very faintly like soured mint. mothballs; not that she knows what they are yet. ]
no subject
It'll do.
( Bedsheet or no, it'll work just fine. He's pragmatic enough, it's large enough, warm enough. Until he can find something better... it'll do.
Perhaps he ought to thank her.
Perhaps he ought to apologize for the outburst, and about half a dozen other things.
Perhaps he ought to tell her that he'll heal, and he'll make good. Promise to take her north. Promise not to put hands on her, like her shit husband. Promise that all the nasty things he says aren't true, that she's nothing to fear from him, that his bark is only bark with her, that her sister's safe and strong, that he'll watch over her here, that he's impressed by how she's changed.
In the end, he says nothing else. Just turns, ducks his head, and walks away with the fabric still tucked under his arm. Words are almost always horseshit anyway. )