"Losing focus in public. The fact I don't suddenly mureder everyone when I do that makes it viable."
"Uh... cool? Do you know what
does happen, though?"
She starts walking toward her car slowly, looking back at you.
"So, you coming along?"
After waking up and eating some soup for breakfast Steven grabs his jacket and sits in front of his computer inspecting the damage whilst watching local news videos and listening for reports on violent crime.
You're on the news! You're famous! Concusser blows again, takes guns and handcuffs from officer as compensation, as the news so eloquently put it. You in this case are represented by a less-than-indicative shadow with a hat and white sunglasses, which, while a little bit spiffy, is not the look you'd probably want to be remembered for. Also the name sucks ass.
In other news, Kasplortch appears to have surfaced once more, according to one eyewitness account. No pictures, though. Must be a slow news day.
Finally, Project Ed have raised a little awareness by actively spreading word of a performance they'll (specifically Ilo and One-Eighty, with Dissent apparently spectating, which they felt the need to mention for some reason) be doing sometime this Friday - that's two days away, you notice. The theme's apparently going to be warped space, and everyone, especially non-Eddites, is invited to join them at the Freiberg Stadium.
It's noted that the police are going to be cordoning the Freiberg Stadium off during the next five or so days to prevent any shenanigans taking place there. It's a valued landmark, after all. Been there since the 1920s. Matter of civic pride to keep it safe from these Project Ed assholes, the newspeople explain.
keep waiting
You wait and you wait and you wait and you wait and you wait and you wait and you wait and you wait and you wait and you wait.
Ten minutes have passed!
You wait some more and then you wait a little bit extra and you wait for what feels like eternity and you wait for interminable ages and you wait until your ears start to hum and your eyes start to itch.
Two more minutes have passed!
As soon as you start to actively rather than passively lose your mind, though, Kibbel reappears, looking out of breath.
"Hoo-wee! Those stairs, I tell you. Invigorating as all hell."
He plops himself down on a nearby couch, stretching out across its length.
"Busy day, though. So, you make any headway on those powers? You look like you're about to die of boredom. Maybe figured out a codename for yourself in the meantime? Anything?" he asks, looking at the ceiling and panting.
"We did make headway, I guess," Officer Church replies quietly, her ears overly used to the crushing silence of being in your company.
Carrie waits and watches for a while.
You wait like the little time demon you are, scrutinizing and disassembling the personal lives and dirty secrets of all who are around you.
Or, rather, mentally captioning their daily actions in what you feel is a highly witty manner. It's especially fun to come up with whole dialogues for them. You like the drug dealer's dialogues best, because you can say 'drugs' a lot, maybe put a little hiss in at the end to make it more interesting. Shame he doesn't have a leather jacket, or even a sleazy-looking hoodie that he always puts the hood up on. Instead, the munchkin's got a funny-looking sweater and a set of cargo pants. Several different, colorful shades of cargo pants. Dude is living large, that's for sure. You can't help but voice him with a goofy, friendly voice, such a sweet impression does he give off.
Selina tries to see if she can... absorb it back into her with her mind, also trying to gently push it into her skin. She'd have to try later when whatever made the stuff made more of it in her... that was a creepy thought.
After thats all done, Selina tries to find a tv to see if theres anything on the news... important to know whats happening atleast... maybe she COULD go home... maybe.
The droplet doesn't move back into your skin, merely spreads itself out over you in an extremely thin layer, up to the point where you couldn't tell the difference between it and the regular helping of bodily slime that all humans excrete on their epidermis.
You find life to be a little more difficult now that you seem to be uncannily aware of the mild sliminess of your epidermis, as a side note.
Also, no TV. That is to say, there is a TV, but it seems to be tuned in a manner you hesitate to describe as an improvement. Rather than showing you actual TV, it just appears to have a set of three channels. One is fluctuating white noise punctuated by sounds of nails being scratched along chalkboard rhythmically, one is a lot of beeping accompanying pictures of really weird aliens, and the third is nature television narrated by somebody you can't quite understand, probably because he's not speaking your language. Maybe from Asia? He sure sounds very excited.
"Hey, it's that guy!" you hear the voice of Rita. You turn and see her at the entrance to the room. She's quite damp, her hair frizzy, and she's wearing a set of fresher-looking clothes. Her face is rather tranquil. "Turn on the numbers channel, though. Maybe something new is on there," she casually suggests.
Jake takes a deep breath before walking over to the Project Ed kids. "Hey." He says rather calmly as am attempt to get their attention.
"Hey yourself, kid," one girl says in a monotone, staring at you without blinking. You think she's a year or two younger than you.
"You want any lights or sounds, or do you want to waste our time?" a boy of no more than fourteen asks.
"Don't be a shithead. But seriously, dude, what do you want?" another girl about your age asks of you, slapping the little guy across the head. He doesn't particularly react.