Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Six

[snowblindmods]

Characters: the marked, the unmarked, and their rescuers
Location: ???
Date: Morning 356
Summary: Time to get out of here.
Warnings: gore, psychological horror, warn for specifics in the subject lines

Part Six OOC Post

Comments

[jumpthegun]

There are other people. Friends. People you make laugh. The way out is up there, mate.

Nothing shitty ever lasts, right?

[He reaches out to place a hand on Nathan's shoulder.]

[notaquaman]

[Maybe he just didn't realize just how much he needed any amount of physical contact, but when John puts a hand on his shoulder, Nathan's reaches up and squeezes his wrist. It's a desperate action, like he's double checking that John's actually there to begin with.]

But that same shitty just comes swinging right back around to smack you in the face when you've finally let your guard back down. It's just no fucking use.

[jumpthegun]

[John takes note of that movement and gives Nathan's shoulder a squeeze.]

So, you get knocked down. But you get up again. They're never gonna keep you down.

[Maybe Nathan will pick up on the reference to "Tubthumping" and run with it as a grounding mechanism.]

[notaquaman]

[There's a pause as John's words sink in. The first reference, while it didn't exactly go over his head, didn't seem to reach him. This time, there's a definite change on his face. His vision sharpens, a slight break through that haze of panic and despair.]

Did you really just hit me with Chumbawamba?

[jumpthegun]

Philosophers of our times, mate. The great poets.

[John's going to try to hold that thread of focus, press on with the ridiculousness to pull out Nathan's inner troll and drag him to reality.]

And the fact you recognize the lyrics says you've listened to that song enough times to know them off by heart.

[notaquaman]

[He's aghast, John. Aghast!]

Fuck off, mate! Everyone knows those lyrics. That song's a staple of the early 2000s--there's just no escaping it.

[Anyway, he can relate to pissing the night away.]

What I'd be more concerned about is your apparently deep-seeded knowledge of boy band songs.

[jumpthegun]

Oh, it's not just boy bands. See, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

[Can you Spice Girls it up, Nathan? Can you tolerate the Embarrassing Dad?]

[notaquaman]

[He can't, he really, really can't. But, hey, he's not shaking anymore. He's looking steadily and steadily more like himself.]

See, this is the perks of having an absentee fuckup of a father. Sure, birthdays were less than ideal and I may have some regrettable abandonment issues as a result, but on the upside, I never had to deal with this bullshit. Please tell me you aren't going to shock me with some theme-appropriate puns, next.

[jumpthegun]

Don't cell your experiences short. [Well, you asked for it, Nathan. John's not exactly at the top of his game for punnery, but he can manage bad puns.] Maybe you just blocked out the puns your mates were on about. To substitute.