snowblindrpg | [log] justin! he's punching all my blood out! [closed]

[ It's not an ideal place to stay the night, but it's shelter. It's shelter, and there's nobody around, and Royce is relieved. Exhausted by the day of walking, Royce curls up in the corner of the house and sets up his little camp. Blankets, food, weapons, clothes out to dry. It's almost lockdown, and he should be fine for the night. Shivering, Royce pulls the blankets close and closes his eyes, resting sitting up, back to the wall.

Nobody has taken him up on his offer yet, he's pretty sure. He's just gotten a bunch of people scolding him for offering a service, which is annoying but predictable. Whatever. Worth a shot.

For now, he just wants rest. He knows he's in bad shape, weak and exhausted from Manzant, too-thin and too hungry. Have to recover. Have to make it out of here and back to Colnora. They're going to pay. ]

[Alfie's been taking it slow, mostly. He stays close to the tunnels so that he can zip back into them the moment that Royce gets his memory back, and he keeps a close eye out for messages so that he'll know the second that that happens. But other than that? He wanders. He looks for supplies. He tests his still non-functional network privacy filters, hoping that those come back soon, too.

He picks tonight's house at random. It's at the dead end of one of the tunnel arms, and he's never found anything useful there - or much of anything at all, period. But while that means he doesn't check it often, he doesn't want to ignore it completely and potentially miss something unexpected showing up. So here he is, coming out of the hatch... and coming face to face with Royce, who's sitting along the far wall.]

-- Ah.

[ Ah.

Of all the things, he wasn't expecting the hatch to open. But it does, and that sure is a person crawling up out of the hatch, and Royce immediately is on the defensive. He knows who this is - he's seen Alfie's face in the conversations Royce has saved, he's seen the pictures and videos on his tablet of this same guy, over and over, this man that seemed to know his impostor better than anybody in this hellhole. The man who lied to him, over the network.

Royce grabs his straight razor and is on his feet fast as he can, glaring, ready for a fight. ]

I'm not gonna attack you.

[He says, just to get that out of the way. He slides the rest of the way out of the hatch, tugging his bag along behind him.]

[ Royce doesn't answer that. He's cornered, like an animal on the defensive, watching Alfie. Not going to attack him, sure. Sure, Royce is going to believe that. ]

Out. [ Royce says, sharply, standing up, shifting the razor in his hand to a more aggressive position. ] Get out.

No, I'm fucking exhausted; I'm gonna stay here.

[He sets about settling on the floor a few feet from the hatch, pulling out his blankets and the collapsed air mattress.]

[ Royce stares at him - and then starts to gather his own things together, putting them away, packing them up. Fine. He'll leave. He'll just have to try to get to another house before lockdown, which is - in twenty minutes or so. ]

You're not gonna go out that door, I hope. There's no building nearby.

Then I'll die.

[ Logically, he knows he can't make it to another building, but he's not spending the night in this building with Alfie. He refuses. ]

Don't be fucking stupid.

Don't talk to me.

[ All of his hackles are raised - he wants out, away from this, doesn't need this sort of complication. He's still packing - quickly, because he knows his time is running out. Is it twenty? Or is he misremembering the time the doors lock? It's only been a day or two and he's been inside far before it even got close - he hasn't chanced it like this before. ]

We don't fucking know each other; calm down. Do you act like this around everyone?

[Despite his exhaustion, he shifts to a standing position.]

I'm not gonna let you run out into the snow and kill yourself.

[ Royce freezes when Alfie stands. A beat, and then he snatches up his cloak, putting it on. He doesn't believe this for a second - he's not having it, he's not letting someone fuck him over again. That's the only reason someone would pretend so steadfastly like this. ]

If you don't know me, then why do you care? [ Royce asks, voice sharp. He takes a step forward, hood up, razor at the ready. ]

I've come to realize the sanctity of life and all, in the time that I've been here.

[He stays put, not approaching Royce but not backing off either.]

Now fuck off back into the corner.

[ Right. No, absolutely not. Royce pulls his things closer, and goes ahead and heads towards the door. ]

Not this way.

[He takes a few long strides over to the front door, positioning himself between it and Royce.]

[ No - no, he doesn't want to be cornered. And this is about where instinct kicks in, Manzant's steep learning curve taking over. Royce is small and weak and underfed, but he's used to his body being this way. He knows how to move and he knows how to get up in someone's space without effort - he darts forward, sinking down and then up, slashing the razor through the air at Alfie, not caring so much where he lands the hit. As long as he does.

And then he'll aim to hook Alfie's feet out from under him with his own, so he can get at the door.

Not that it matters. His hearing isn't as good as it's supposed to be, and he misses the click of the door locking as he sweeps his leg out to knock Alfie down. ]

[Alfie instinctively jerks an arm up to block the knife, and so it catches him in his forearm, giving him a long, deep cut that stretches nearly from elbow to wrist. He yells in pain, striking out with his uninjured arm to aim a punch to Royce's face, but Royce trips him and he goes down instead. And that's where he'll stay, as Royce makes a break for the door.]

[ Alfie goes down - there's the smell of blood in the air, and he's satisfied, only... the door is locked. The door is locked, and Royce immediately turns, pressing his back to it, staring down at Alfie. He's calculating as quickly as he can, trying to figure out his options. The hatch is probably closed as well.

He's stuck.

Twirling the straight razor in his hand, Royce steps forward, ready to finish it. He has to. It's the only way to avoid being killed in his sleep. ]

[Alfie, already ill and in pain even before the brutal stab, isn't exactly in a good state to jump right up and fight back. He groans, clutching his heavily-bleeding arm, and looks around wildly for his bag - his bag that's several feet away from him, still over by the hatch.]

[ There's a long pause, as something in Royce resists - he should just get rid of Alfie now. But he can't. There's something stopping him, and he just... takes a few steps back instead. Moves back to his corner, hood up, cloak pulled close.

It should be easy. He's sick and frail and half-dead. But... ]

Edited 2018-04-17 23:48 (UTC)

[When Royce moves away, Alfie lets himself go boneless on the floor, breathing heavily and closing his eyes. He just needs to rest for a second. He needs to pull himself together. And then he can patch himself up.]

Toss me my pack.

[He says, sharply.]

Just throw it.

[ Nope. Sorry, Alfie. He stopped himself from killing you, there's no way he's going to give you any advantages. He scoots away from Alfie, pressing himself against the corner and blocking his stuff off. ]

Throw me the bag, I said.

[He snaps through gritted teeth- but he knows it's a lost cause, so he starts the painful process of picking himself up off the floor. He's woozy from blood loss, but he manages it.]

[ Royce scowls at him from under the hood. ]

Get your own bag. [ He shouldn't say anything. But. ]

Day 351

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